Summerland of the Heart
by Elfriend
Summary: Post WotR, Legolas is called home to Mirkwood from Gondor by his father. Thranduil has fallen afoul of dark magic left in Dol Guldur. Legolas is imperiled and his friends go to his aid. Also Haldir. OC AU multi crossover Angst MarySue with substance
1. Summerland Prologue Chapters 01 to 04

**Naeore Laerien** (Summerland of the Heart)

_Authors Notes_

Welcome to Summerland: You have clicked open a tale that was crafted with immense love. Primarily, Summerland is an exploration of grief and elves, giving those of us who miss them an opportunity to imagine that they didn't have to leave Middle Earth after all. The tale is also rather abashedly a Mary Sue (times two) with romances for both Legolas and Haldir, though I dare to believe it has some value beyond wish fulfillment.

Even if you aren't normally interested in AU, Crossover, OC, Mary Sue, angsty, elf-fancying stories, perhaps you'll do me the honor of taking a peek at this one. It comes from my heart and I hope it touches yours.

On the Matter of Elves: I have respectfully simplified elven relationships because it was more compelling for me to get into their heads rather than into their complex history for the purposes of this story.

A Note on Language: I spent a highly enjoyable time doing Elvish translations because I feel strongly that the language is an important element to include. Although I intend to improve that aspect at a later date, I am satisfied that it can stand as it is and provide the ambiance I am aiming for despite inaccuracies.

On Crossovers: Summerland is alternate universe and incorporates crossover elements predominately as backstory. Long ago I decided that if space was infinite, then why not imagine that all the stories I love are taking place simultaneously on various worlds in the same universe? All that was required was some sort of unifying thread - so I created my gypsy refugees from which my original characters are derived. I am sure fantasy fans will recognize a number of sources, but rest assured - Summerland is a Middle Earth tale.

A Note on Bail Organa: I created my original characters many years before George Lucas explained how the King of Alderaan came to raise Leia. I made up my own version and that is what you will find here.

Regarding Thranduil: My intent is always to respect and preserve the voices of well-beloved characters. We know little enough about Thranduil that speculation about him varies. I subscribe to (and prefer to read about) a Thranduil that is a loving father, if a bit mercurial. At first blush it may appear that I am enormously hard on the character of Thranduil, but I hope I am ultimately successful in expressing my affection for him.

Thank you for coming this far with me!

Namárië & Namaste,

Elfriend

XXX

Prologue:

**Summons **

The summons had come abruptly, delivered by an elf who had traveled south intent upon adding his skill to the restoration of the great city of men, Minas Tirith.

Many elves had come. There were some sixty in the city and more scattered throughout the countryside of Gondor and Ithilien, doing their part to mend the damage caused by the War of the Ring. The defeat of the Enemy and the return of the king had wrought change throughout Middle Earth. Renewed security on the king's roads was one such change, so that trade between the races was brisk. Even elves, reclusive for over 3,000 years, were on the move.

Some of them were; those that had not taken the ships for Valinor; those for whom the Great Longing for the sea had not become intolerable.

Alfirin of the wood elves came with saplings of flowering trees, tended with care over the weeks and miles of travel, in order to grace the Gardens – fast becoming one of the marvels of a reawakening city. As is the way with elves, ever courteous to one another and in their dealings with other races, Alfirin presented his respects to the King and Queen upon his entry into the city. But after his eloquent courtesies to Elessar and Arwen of Gondor, he turned so precipitously to Legolas (who stood to the right of his friends' thrones), that the woodland prince was visibly startled (which is to say, that there was a nearly imperceptible widening of his eyes). Then, without preamble, Alfirin spoke the words of the summons as if he'd memorized them exactly as they had been spoken to him.

"Legolas, elf of the woods, you are summoned to your King and instructed to delay not in your coming, but to travel thence with all speed."

To which Legolas could only reply, "Of course! I shall go at once." Which is how he found himself, after a hasty farewell to his friends, astride silver-white Arod riding out of the gates of Minas Tirith in the afternoon with the sun's slanting rays broken by the towers of men at his back.

XXX

Hovering above the streets of Rhemuth the Fair, the King's capitol in Gwynedd, Serafé Organa Naberrie reveled in the bright auras of immortality so recently acquired by its people. Though it was night and most of the inhabitants of the city were abed, the glow of peace filtered through the densest wall and roof to create a spectacle of coruscating colors to be enjoyed by any with the skill and experience to appreciate it. The vision swelled her heart with pride and love for these good folk.

In the direction of the palace, where her body lay in light slumber, Feia perceived the potent glow of Kelson's power pulsing with a life that spread and somehow touched every light in the city and beyond. He must be dreaming for his people again. Feia wondered when he allowed himself true rest, for even a King must sometimes dream for himself. Perhaps she should speak with him about it.

_And that should be reminder enough that it is past time to return to my own rest. _She could hardly call the King to account for his nightly wanderings if she was unwilling to limit her own. But it was such a lovely night! Somehow it had called to her – summoned her, almost; luring her from that first light slumber of the night so that she could soar and drift, visiting this land and the people who had gifted her with the closest thing to a home that she had enjoyed in many long years.

But the act of traveling takes its toll in fatigue if one does not have a care. It is a talent not to be used lightly, and Feia's traveling tonight was little more than fancy. With a mental sigh, Feia gave in to her more cautious nature and began to gather the skeins of dream light upon which she traveled back into herself.

The sensation that followed was both strange and familiar, as though she were a cork floating trapped inside a bottle filled half with air and half with water held in the depths of the ocean. Once released, the bottle seeks the surface gaining in momentum; rising up and up. But the cork is driven down and down, hard against the bottom of the bottle until the surface is found. Then as the water inside the bottle adapts itself to the rhythm of the waves, the cork bobs peacefully to join it. And so Feia found her consciousness when returning from traveling.

She had very nearly matched the rhythm of her essence with that of her body when there was a disruption at the edge of her awareness; a signature of distress she recognized at once as Meg's. And so, instead of returning to consciousness she traveled instead to a set of rooms adjacent to her own, there to discover what could be disturbing her near-sister's sleep.

Meghailin slept fitfully indeed, but she was safe. Tangled in her blankets with her profusion of white-gold curls making a wide, wild aura of its own, Meg lay softly muttering, one hand clenched tightly around something which hung from a fine chain about her neck. A delicate sheen of perspiration glistened on her brow in the moonlight. Feia touched Meg's shoulder with her etheric hand and her friend stirred and breathed a deep sigh, seeming to settle into normal slumber.

But then all at once Meg gave a cry, "Man agortha estabar!?" Every line of her body spoke of urgency as she tossed, straining to apprehend a response.

On their home world, the elvish language had been the cultural prerogative of elves; only the most scholarly humans studied it. Feia did not consider herself to be a scholar and she had picked up very little of the language. Perhaps Meg was experiencing a night terror, or perhaps a true dream. In either case, Feia knew not how to comfort her without intruding upon the sanctity of her sister's mind.

With some hesitancy, Feia withdrew to her own bedchamber determined to respect Meg's privacy. But as she paused by her sleeping body, prepared to seek natural sleep, Feia sensed that something was different – missing. Searching the room for a cause, she perceived no reason for alarm. Still, something teased at her awareness. Extending her senses, Feia encountered only the tranquility of the palace in slumber and the continuous stream of good will flowing from the King's dream.

_The King's dream!_ That was it! Kelson's dream did not touch her, nor had his energy been evident in Meg's sleeping aura.

And with no further warning, Feia was uprooted - adrift... alone. These were feelings well known to her – old friends since the long exile began. But they had not felt so immediate, so sharp and hot, for all of the years that she had dwelt in Gwynedd. Turning again to her slumbering form, she saw tears streaming down her own cheeks. It was time for them to leave. Again.

Settling into her body, Feia allowed herself to wake slowly to the sound of her own soft sobs. Sitting up she found she was trembling and gathered the blankets tight about her, but there was little comfort in it.

"Did you finish saying goodbye, then?"

"Father," she whispered, as the familiar form coalesced in light – warm red-orange and white, standing beside her bed. The figure smiled warmly, but regretfully, and moved closer.

Laying a hand over hers that Serafé felt only as a slight tingle of energy up her arm, he who was once Bail Riatt Organa said, "Daughter, you have felt that it is time to go; now I come to tell you where and how.

"The free folk of Middle Earth, of whom you know, have at last cast out the Great Evil, but they also have resigned themselves to a fate that need not be theirs. The men of Middle Earth believe that they must live in a world without what they perceive to be magic. The elves believe that they must leave Middle Earth in order to find renewed life, and to allow men to thrive. Dwarves and hobbits might perceive that they will gradually diminish as men multiply.

"The people do not know that the ascension of men in the universe has begun and grows now so swiftly that your presence only will be enough to trigger it on Middle Earth. Wherever men ascend, so will all of the people ascend; dwarves and hobbits shall continue to have a place on Middle Earth. And wherever men ascend, elves will be called upon to join with them, as has been the plan since creation. The elves of Middle Earth must not pass into the west, but instead find Valinor, their Summerland, within their hearts.

"You are asked to undertake the task of catalyst for this ascension upon Middle Earth. But, my daughter, Middle Earth exists in a perilous area of space endangered by the existence of a terrible threat. Technology of any kind will attract this menace that Middle Earth's people have not the knowledge to resist. If once the collective eye falls upon Middle Earth, it shall be free no longer. This must not be.

"Seek the assistance of the Guild of Messengers. If they are willing, a way will be found for you to travel to Middle Earth without attracting the notice of the collective.

"This also I say to you, Serafé; only this last time will you be asked to assist the great work of the Powers That Be. After this, no trigger at all will be needed for other worlds to ascend. A place of rest has been found for you, and you may have a home at last, if you continue to trust and follow your heart.

"Now sleep; and wake refreshed remembering these words. You have work yet to do, and choices yet to make. Only trust and all will be as you have long desired – as I have long desired for you."

And Feia slept peacefully until past dawn in happy dreams of childhood, of Alderaan, and of a home yet to be.

XXX

Meghailin Celduinsén McKiernan dreamed.

A strange forest in darkness ensnared her, but she ran – searching. Someone was calling for her. From the depth of great sadness, of long grief, someone reached out in need of her healing touch, but she could not locate him.

"Man agortha estabar!?" _From whence do you call?_ She both spoke and projected. But the cries remained faint.

Branches tore at her clothing, and her bare feet flew over rock and root. She would not stop! Meg was a healer, not only in talent and in training, but also in her soul - and she was needed. But a terrible fear rose up filling her throat, two fears really: that her survival also, was dependant in some unfathomable way upon connecting with this being; and that she was nearly out of time. The fear ran ahead of feet that could not move fast enough!

Meg could no longer hear the distant cry that drew her, but through a haze that had informed her eyes a light beckoned – golden and green, ahead in the trees.

"Túllen!" _I come to thee!_ Meg tried to shout, but it came out a broken whisper. So she projected that, too, with all the strength she possessed.

"Túllen!" the faraway voice responded in her mind just as Meg broke through the tangle of trees into an open clearing. Flinging herself across the last steps to its center, she fell to her knees beside the source of the light and placed her hands to either side; allowing the glow to bathe her face.

A green and golden nimbus surrounded her being in a feeling of serenity and belonging such as she had not known in all the time since her home was destroyed. Tears of grief she had not allowed for many long years slid down her cheeks unhindered and one tear fell between her hands into the light. In response it flared more brilliantly yet.

At that moment, the golden-green light changed to silver-blue, and there, between her hands she saw that its source was a ring of mithril and sarnnenmír. Her father's ring! Reflexively, Meg grasped the chain about her neck from which she always wore that ring depended over her heart. She could feel its weight, warm against her skin. How then could it lie upon the floor of a clearing in this unknown forest?

Sitting back on her heels, Meg removed the ring from inside her nightdress and stared in stunned amazement. In her hand glittered a large golden ring of elven make in a fine filigree of vines and leaves surmounted by an emerald, itself cut into the shape of an odd, triune leaf.

The spot of earth that had held her father's ring was now empty.

"Túllen…" echoed once more in her mind and she faded from the dream into more natural sleep. As Meg's body relaxed in normal slumber filled with peaceful dreams, her hand relaxed its grip on the ring over her heart, and the stream of moonlight through her window was caught and reflected in the depths of deep green emerald.

XXX

Haldir of Lórien appeared serene as any elf in Caras Galadhon, but he was troubled in his heart. At first, he had believed he was suffering the onset of the great longing. When Galadriel, his Lady of the Wood, had taken ship for the west, many of the Galadhrim had followed soon after. Many more would follow in the years ahead; for the magic of timelessness had been lifted here soonest, where it had lain heaviest and longest. The ravages of winter had fallen upon elvenkind on Middle Earth.

At times, the loss of all that was now past was overwhelming; the sorrow for what was, and would never be again. Perchance the grief was sharper for Haldir, because he had seen death come to elves who had lived for thousands of years; had fought beside elves who would not travel to Valinor but waited now in The Halls. Elves like Orophin, his brother.

But because of all he had seen, he was also, perhaps, more tied to Middle Earth than the majority of his brethren – cared more, perhaps, for the fate of the other people of this world. And that is why, as the ache of emptiness in his heart grew, his desire to take ship and leave the land of his birth did not.

Instead, he walked the forest of Lórien and the huge flets, the telain, high in the mallorn trees and found them too small to contain his restless feet or his yearning heart. In his mind, Haldir began to cast forth his thoughts like a net to catch the thing that would bring him ease and healing. Deep in elven trance, each day as he walked the forest, he cast his mind-net ever farther and wider, until one day his diligence yielded a sign more incredible than he could have imagined or hoped.

A small voice in his head, a voice in pain akin to his own, cried, "Man agortha estabar!?" But the more he attempted to stretch forth his mind toward this being, the greater the distance between them seemed to grow until he fairly wept with frustration. He determined to go deeper still into trance to reach this one who could represent his salvation.

Kneeling in a small clearing in the woods, Haldir used the ring on his index finger as a point of focus to draw his mind into the greatest depth of trance he had yet achieved in three and a half thousand years. The golden filigree ring with its Mallorn leaf shaped emerald had been Orophin's, and he wore it in remembrance of all things lost. Now, he prayed, it would aid him in reaching that which he so desperately desired to find. In moments, the ring began to glow and pulse with a light that would have near-blinded his physical eyes, but he perceived it from the depths of his mind and it harmed him not. Then, faintly, he heard the voice call, "Túllen!" But Haldir, in need and impatience uncharacteristic of elves, stretched forth his mind and found a feeling, an essence, he could almost recognize – almost grasp – and he responded, "Túllen!" _I come to thee! _

At that moment a surge of emotions rushed in upon him, so potent that he was knocked back on his heels. He felt sorrow and compassion, grief and hope, loneliness and belonging. He trembled with recognition and a powerful desire.

A drop of liquid, both cool and warming, skimmed his fingers. And when, all unconsciously, he raised his hand to his lips, there he tasted a salty tear. Shaken, Haldir opened his eyes, half anticipating that he would see one of the Valar weeping to heal the world. But there was naught there but a silver-blue glow. Extending his thoughts once more before the contact was lost to him, he sent, "Túllen!" And he was alone.

A wave of exhaustion overcame him and Haldir knelt, breathing heavily, with hands pressed to the earth before him. Gradually, as he came to himself, Haldir vowed that he would locate this being…Nay! _this lady,_ to whom he now sensed he was unequivocally tied. And that is when he saw the ring upon his finger plainly for the first time.

Mithril it was, cut and shaped in spirals that minded him of water flowing, and set with a tear shaped stone of palest blue.

Chapter 1:

**The Mallorn Tree **

The Mallorn Tree is a prosperous and inviting Inn sprawling over a generous portion of the sixth level of Minas Tirith, as close to the Citadel, (the seventh and highest level) as it is possible to be in a city built for defense. Many changes have been made to the city in the short span of years since the War of the Ring, and many more are planned, but it still takes considerable time for citizens and visitors of the city to make their way through the seven defensive gates to the Citadel where dwell the King and Queen.

The Mallorn Tree itself represents a good many of the changes in the city, for Minas Tirith has had no inns of its caliber for an uncountable span of years. And this inn is, astonishingly, owned in partnership by a sylvan elf named Firith and an adventurous Periannath, (or Hobbit, as she prefers) from far north in Bree, by the name of Peony Burrows. Widows both, they also share in common a good head for business, but little else.

Catering to outlanders and those who have business with such, The Mallorn Tree, commonly known as The Tree, boasts a fair few wonders by the standards of the locals. Patrons can quite rightly expect hearty meals served seven times each day, and a bit of a nibble any time, with rich sweet ale, malt beer or wine, and even miruvor if one has the coin – all followed by a good pipe (Peony herself is seldom seen far from a good pipe full of tabac from the South Farthing of the distant Shire). Music and story telling of all sorts are to be heard there, beginning in the afternoon and lasting until the sun comes up in the morning - as often in Dwarvish, Elvish, or Rohirric as in Westron, the common tongue. If rest and privacy suit better than the nightly gatherings, comfortable accommodations are to be had; some set upon flets in the inner courtyard and open to the night air, some dug into the ground and comfortingly closed with stout round doors, and some that the good citizens hereabouts find less strange.

Many of the most famous heroes from the war are known to patronize The Tree whilst visiting the city. It is commonly held that Legolas the elf and Gimli the dwarf, though provided rooms at the Citadel by the King, are as likely to be found at The Tree as anywhere else. The Periannath prince Peregrin Took politely refuses a room at the Citadel in favor of the more appropriately sized room, (and better food) to be had at The Tree. It is rumored that even the King and Queen are sometimes to be seen there enjoying the entertainments of an evening, though Firith flatly denies this. When pressed on the question, Peony lays a finger by her nose and says with a wink that decidedly odder things have happened and likely will again.

Haldir chose The Tree rather than the rooms in the Citadel offered by King and Queen for the simple expedient that he hoped to fall upon some scrap of information that would aid him in his quest; and far likelier was he to find such here as anywhere else in Minas Tirith. He was likelier to find such here, in fact, than anywhere else in the whole of Middle Earth. That was reason enough for traveling hence; though in truth, he could not have remained any longer idle in Lórien.

This evening, Haldir's first in the city, Gimli had joined him in the common room of The Tree, and now the dwarf was industriously and almost offensively demolishing a largish partridge and a tankard of malt beer. Over time, Haldir had come to appreciate Gimli's company, though their first meeting had been strained to say the least. Haldir assumed that traveling with Legolas had civilized the dwarf somewhat, though currently there was little sign of that.

Putting aside his small cup of wine, Haldir said, "It is most unfortunate timing that brings me to Minas Tirith only days after Legolas was called to the north. I should have liked to visit with him." Haldir had hoped his widely traveled brother elf might have lent him assistance in his search and also, just possibly be someone in whom he could confide his rather remarkable experience. He had yet to share his miracle in the clearing with anyone at all. In fact, he had taken to wearing his bereth corië nin, _his lady's ring_ – as he had come to think of it, on a thong about his neck or hidden in his belt pouch.

Few had noted the absence of his brother's Mallorn leaf ring, but this new ring would surely be noticed and marked; the more for being made from rarest mithril. Perhaps asking about regarding the ring would help him unearth some clue, but Haldir was unaccountably loath to display it.

Gimli belched and, quite politely, ignored Haldir's slight flinch. He had come to respect Haldir; an ally more fierce or brave could not be found anywhere in this world. The dwarf had even been known to seek out the Lórien elf's company from time to time, (having become somewhat accustomed to the odd ways of elves from his association with Legolas). But this elf was most notably fastidious. His reason for meeting with Haldir now had little to do with the passing of a pleasant evening, however.

Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, Gimli's expression went grave as he responded, "A summons as odd and abrupt as ever I have heard coming from a father to his son. It likes me not and I can't put a finger on why." He spoke the exact summons to Haldir watching for a reaction, and not surprisingly, found none. Elves!

Scooting his stool closer to the table, Gimli leaned in, "Legolas made no comment at all about the wording of the message, nor the manners of the messenger; and that seems enough for Aragorn who flat won't discuss it!" Gimli rarely used the King's new name or gave titles whilst in company with friends. "But it troubles my mind! 'Elf of the woods' is no proper greeting; and no acknowledgment whatsoever that Thranduil is kin at all, let alone father to the lad."

Haldir was continually bemused by Gimli's use of the term "lad" when referring to his friend, the elder of that pair by nearly 2,000 years – though Haldir himself often thought of Legolas in much the same fashion, (he had the excuse that he had seen the "lad," once, as a babe). Something in the dwarf's tension translated itself at last, however, and Gimli's concern was perhaps contagious, for the summons did seem odd.

But King Thranduil was known to be odd and changeable, and there could be many explanations for such a slight. Perchance a fit of pique at his son's long absence from his woodland home, one that had likely passed already. Or it could simply have been a poor choice in messenger; one who did not deliver the message entire or as intended. No, there was no cause here for immediate alarm.

Then again, more information might prove useful. "Tell me, Gimli; is this Alfirin still in the city?"

XXX

Allowing Cricket, the mare's glossy black coat muted to gray-brown by travel dust, to pick her way through the cobbled streets of the sixth level of the White City of Gondor, Feia kept a sharp eye out for an inn called The Tree. The fine merchants in the city with whom she had inquired, after a practiced scrutiny of the quality of her apparel, (and not a few considering looks when her style of dress did not immediately identify her country of origin) had informed her that she would be wanting "The Tree", most adding an uncertain, "My Lady."

The directions she had received had consisted mostly of polite, but vague, pointing. But from all sources one direction was perfectly clear; to reach The Tree, one travels up. And up she had been climbing for the better part of the morning and into the afternoon. After days in the saddle with nothing to do but think, she was ready to find this Tree, or any tree, or to dig a hole in the ground for the matter of that.

Feia had appeared somewhere in the Riddermark of Rohan many days previously and, fortunately, not been seen. A woman and a horse arriving from nowhere through a gateway of light would certainly be remarked and probably considered reason for concern or worse. Feia did not think the Rohirrim would burn her at the stake as a witch, but then again, from what little knowledge she had of those folk, a superstitious view of magic would not be out of the ordinary amongst them.

In point of fact, the gateway cubes she had acquired from the Guild of Messengers were not technically magic. In Guild philosophy, magic was not possible. "Everything falls under some law or another," Nillis the Guild's Chief Motivator was fond of saying. "Magic, if it existed, would shred the fabric of the universe." This from a man who could rearrange heavenly bodies at will. Even so, he had been prickly about making the gateway cubes. That one had his own view of how, when, and by whom the work of the Powers That Be should be carried out!

But at last, with remonstrations for greatest care in their use, Nillis had supplied her with, not one, but four gateway cubes, explaining mysteriously that she might need them if she had forgotten something or other – and that she aught to have a way back, aughtn't she?

"Choices, Serafé," the sorcerer had said, "You must have choices, for that is the heart of freedom."

Having four had proved fortuitous, since Meghailin was oddly reluctant to accompany Feia to Middle Earth. It was not her work at the Thuryn Academy, founded by King Kelson for those with the Healing talent, which constrained Meg. She had exchanged all the knowledge with the instructors there that she could. But what it might be that was troubling her friend, Feia could not guess and Meg would not say - not until she was well and truly ready.

In the days since Feia had shared with her near sister the message she had received from The Powers That Be, Meg had been distracted and tense. Her rare, but legendary temper was much in evidence and everyone at court and at the Academy was walking small around her. But on several occasions, when taken unawares, Feia had observed upon the elf maid's face an expression of abject longing and terrible loneliness. And Meg had acquired a new habit, forever clutching at her father's ring beneath her clothing. At other times she simply stomped about, (albeit gracefully, for even half-elves can hardly be considered to stomp) mumbling rhetorically to herself.

"I tôl ai?" _Who is coming to whom?_ "Hannae con úetië!" _It is a ring, not a map! _

Ultimately it was decided that one gateway cube would remain in Meg's keeping in the event that there was a "sign," which Feia could not possibly know about whilst on the other side of the universe (Feia wondered whether she could possibly know about it whilst in the same room!). And Meg decided that in the event that Feia found herself in a predicament desperately requiring Meghailin's aid, she was to use one of the remaining cubes to come and fetch her, and Meg would consider _that_ a sign.

After traveling nearly to the Citadel gate, Feia found a sign, but she did not think that it counted, however much she wished her friend were with her. This sign was painted with a stylized tree and the words "The Mallorn Tree" in gilded letters above. This must surely be "The Tree" that was meant; and it appeared most inviting! The Stableman who met her inside the gate was polite and competent. He named himself Burrus and gratefully accepted a small, unmarked silver piece, promising oats for Cricket.

Inside the large common room, custom seemed good, though it was well before dinner and too late for lunch. When she inquired after the inn keeper a bustling server pointed out two, a stately elf who was at the bar writing in a ledger, and a vivacious hobbit involved in a heated, but good natured debate on the merits of pipe weed with two dwarves and a man. Before she had taken a step, the elf was already gliding over with a gracious welcome.

When Firith had shown her to a lovely room with windows that opened onto an airy courtyard under a canopy of trees, Feia ordered a bath, to be sent up with dinner to follow, and resolved to leave off thinking until sometime tomorrow at the earliest.

XXX

Haldir was frustrated and more than frustrated. Picking disinterestedly at a late lunch, which Peony Burrows called "tea," of all things (though he was not drinking tea, and had not been offered any) Haldir pondered the last few days that he had spent in largely fruitless occupation. Researching the design of the miraculous ring in the great archives of the Citadel had produced no result, and sending forth his mind in meditation had been met only with silence. The while, in a corner of his mind, what had been a seed of concern for Legolas sprouted and grew. He knew not whether it was his elven sense, or whether his sense had utterly deserted him.

It had taken Haldir some time to discover the whereabouts of Alfirin, the messenger that Thranduil had sent with his summons for Legolas. Although the elf had hired a flet at The Tree, he never seemed to be about the place, even at night. Inquiries eventually led Haldir to the Gardens, where he found Alfirin in commune with the trees and ventured to question him regarding the nature of his dealings with King Thranduil.

"_I seldom spend more than one day in ten years at Eryn Lasgalen, preferring the company of my friends, you understand," _Alfirin had said, gesturing vaguely toward a grove of trees,_ "but I told King Thranduil once that young Legolas would make a Tree Speaker when he eventually grows tired of shooting at things with arrows. A fine elf, he is, Prince Legolas, and he has the gift strongly. Thranduil must have remembered me and my friends, because after the War of the Ring, he himself sought me out and asked that I should prepare a gift of trees to present to the new King and Queen in Gondor. I advised him that it could take some little while to find volunteers willing to send their seedlings so far, and he agreed that I knew best, and should inform him when I had a suitable gift to send. That was, perhaps, six years ago." _

Alfirin had paused to consider before continuing. _"I saw nary an elf during that time except once last year during the greening, when a company was led by the King into the heart of Mirkwood and they chanced to pass my way. Galion, Thranduil's aid, whom I know well from the time of the Last Alliance, apprised me that they intended to accomplish the reclamation of Dol Guldur, gone to evil when the Necromancer made his lair in our forest. I asked after the prince, but Galion told me that Legolas had been off since before the war, and had not returned, though word came at intervals with the Dúnedan that he was well. _

_I mention this meeting, for I sensed no anxiety in Galion over Legolas's absence, and I would have had the King been wrought up over it. When the King and his companions returned from the Hill of Black Magic I observed them, though they neither stopped, nor spake with me. _

_When next I saw the King, I brought with me the trees that were prepared to accompany me to Gondor, but hardly did he glance at them. Instead he enjoined me to summon Legolas thence, were I to find him here, and bade me speak his message back until he was convinced I had learnt it by rote. _

_It did not occur to me to consider the King's behavior odd, as I am hardly in his company enough to know or judge, but when I left his court in order to undertake my journey, I was approached by Queen Nenuiel. The Queen quite graciously admired the trees, giving them and me her blessing. She also requested that I impart to her all that the King had spoken to me. I saw no reason why I should not do so, but the telling disturbed her greatly. Though presently she took heart, for she said, 'Surely all shall be well again when my son has returned.' She wished me safe travel and bade me stay with the trees until they were properly settled in their new home. _

_And I do con that the trees are determined: if their roots are here, so aught mine to be. I expect I shall be here some long while to come, and here is where Legolas will find me if ever he wishes instruction in my art. You may tell him that, when you find him; if you find him well." _

'If you find him well,' indeed! Would he? Haldir wondered. Perhaps, Haldir thought, he should put aside his own concern and visit Mirkwood himself. He was considering whether a meeting with Gimli on the subject might be in order, and also whether, now, King Elessar might entertain his friends' concerns, when a curious woman entered the inn, arresting his attention.

Dressed well but strangely in a bronze colored silk gown divided for riding, the woman appeared to have ridden far. A long knife or short sword in a well-worn scabbard, and also a dagger hung from her belt. She had draped a long, travel-stained dust cloak and hood over her arm, but she was still removing her riding gloves; supple leather in a rich and practical brown, they buttoned to her elbows. The right glove was fingerless and a quick glance out of the window at the sparse baggage the hostler was removing from her horse confirmed the presence of a short but serviceable bow and a hardened leather quiver of arrows. The black mare was well cared for and beautiful enough for a lady, yet sturdy too – and Haldir suspected, well trained.

The woman herself was possessing of large eyes like amber and hair that seemed to hold all the colors of autumn. It was piled on top of her head in such a way that it appeared she had thrown it there and commanded it to stay, yet he defied any ladies' maid to devise a more pleasing arrangement. Most unusually, two long, slender braids fell over her left eye and down nearly to her waist. They were decorated with beads of moonstone, carnelian and, surprisingly, mithril.

Now what would a lady such as this be doing traveling unescorted without even a servant, displaying mithril on her person as if it were the most natural thing? And why should a few mithril beads cause his mind to connect this woman with his corië bereth nin? This lady was not his lady, this he knew, but almost he dared to approach her, a stranger, and ask if ever she had apprehended a mithril ring like flowing water with a great blue tear set upon it.

As he hesitated, the lady was taken in hand and bundled toward the stairs by Firith. But as she strode in the innkeeper's wake, her gaze slid his way – eyes locking upon his in the briefest contact, and Haldir caught his breath in surprise. The woman was an elf friend!

Chapter 2:

**Night Terrors **

Arwen, Queen of Gondor, lounged in the window embrasure of the sleeping chamber she shared with her husband. Though the moon hung bright silver in the sky, and the view from her window out over the White City was enchanting, it was the view of King Elessar that captivated her. In repose he was so beautiful he filled her heart so she might weep, and often as tonight, the sight of him at rest supplied her with all the rest that she required.

From morning until evening, day upon day, Elessar worked at governing the land, a task which required him to cajole, herd, coax and command a multitude of men, women and outlanders. Having so long wandered Middle Earth alone, she understood that he hardly knew what to make of the constant throng at court, and why he so often retreated into his own thoughts where he might go about the business of rule but still remain quite apart from everyone, including his wife. There he studied the landscape of his mind hunting for the answers he sensed were present there. For many days now, he had been absent thus, stalking a feeling, an instinct, as once he had listened for rumors on the wind.

And Arwen bided with patience, for it was this internal hunt that put the meat on her table. When at last her husband emerged from one of these extended forays into the inner wild, it was with rich delicacies of thoughts and ideas to share with his beloved; a feast indeed for her elven soul to sustain her far better than mere food.

When his serene face creased with distress and his breathing rasped harsh to her ears, Arwen rose and glided to Elessar's side. She felt little anxiety; the King regularly hunted the darkest places by night in his dreams. But as she attempted to sooth his rest with the back of a cool hand against his cheek, Elessar's body began to quake as with terror or pain. His head thrashed back and forth and he moaned "I burn_…I burn."_ Then he sat up straight into her arms and cried out, "Father, Nay!"

Elessar was shaking so violently that Arwen feared he was taken ill, but at last his body quieted, his mind cleared, and he set her away from him so that he might look into her eyes.

It was in Arwen's eyes that Elessar found his solace. That deep gaze filled with purely elven knowing alone calmed his thundering heart. He found that he still held her upper arms and he stroked them gently with his thumbs finding comfort in her soft presence. Arwen laid her fingertips lightly upon his chest, asking nothing; only waiting.

"I dreamt of my father," he said at last. "He named me traitor, and intent upon taking my life he secured me to a tree and set it aflame. The pain of my body was terrible and I wanted to die of it – not for an end to physical suffering, but because the hatred in my father's eyes grieved me past enduring.

I do not know what this dream augers, but I fear it may contain some warning, for I cannot rid myself of this grief. It fills my throat and chills my heart."

"If this dream holds a message for you, you will find it." Arwen said with confidence, but added, "Do you not think it odd that whilst dreaming of your father, a man, you should entreat him in the tongue of elves?"

To which he responded thoughtfully, "I did not know it."

XXX

Late into the night, standing on a flet in the courtyard of The Mallorn Tree, Haldir meditated. Tomorrow, he had decided, he would speak again with Gimli and together they would share their concern for Legolas with the King. If Elessar agreed that there was the slightest reason in their thinking, Haldir had resolved to set aside his own quest for a time and follow instead, after his friend. Surely, if the heavens allowed him a miracle it would also grant him time. Soon he would meet his lady. Soon he would.

At the edge of his consciousness, Haldir perceived sounds rising from the common room. Earlier, there had been dancing and laughter, but now a plaintive song that beckoned and yearned had lain a spell of silence upon the patrons. Two voices; one rich and mellow, the other fresh and light as a breeze from the sea, accompanied by a harp, diverged then met and twined together only to diverge again. He could not discern the words or even the language, but as the two voices courted one another they married perfectly with his mood.

Haldir did not know how long the song continued and barely did he notice when it ended for the feeling remained with him in the silence that followed. After a time the mood of the entertainments changed again as more dancing ensued, but it did not disturb his reverie. Thus, he was startled when a woman's voice keened in terror a few yards only from where he stood, but surprise did not stay him from acting upon his instincts.

Snatching up his weapons as he went, he ran and leapt out over the courtyard and through the open window of one of the inn's guest rooms to land soundlessly, prepared for anything. There he beheld the mysterious lady from the afternoon with her autumnal hair all in disarray sitting up in her bed frozen as a rabbit before a wolf, her startling eyes opened wide but unseeing. As he ascertained that no outside force threatened here, Haldir relaxed his guard, but the woman's distress was dreadful to behold.

Her head jerked in negation and closing her eyes tightly she cried out again, "Ai! Naiú elyë Ada!" Then with a choking gasp her eyes popped open and she was there in them, undone but awake.

He did not recall having moved, but Haldir knelt beside the woman's bed holding her hand in his and chafing her wrist. "Ilye namae, iënin edainriel" _all is well, my lady,_ he soothed. "Hanna elor." _It is a dream. _

The lady was crying now, heart rending sounds that discomfited Haldir, and she was rocking, holding her blankets against her body as if she feared she might break apart. But slowly, slowly her muscles eased, her sobs lessened, and she became aware of herself again.

When he sensed she was fully with him, he released her hand at the same moment she began to draw it away and he said, "Iënin edainriel? Evalor daedelos pant. Ecalen Erendil tirouvasí." _The dream of fear is over. The light of Erendil guards this place. _

"Loneliness, pain, grief," she said to herself, and Haldir thought, _yes._ "How am I to believe and hope for an end to it, when signs portend more of the same ahead for me and for the people I most love?

"I am sorry," she said turning towards him with a shake of her head that sent her beaded braids clicking "I know little Elvish, but I can see that you came prepared to do violence on my behalf and I am most grateful. My name is Serafé Organa Naberrie, though I prefer to be called Feia." She was still trembling visibly, but she had mastered herself enough to give him a brave smile.

She had spoken the common tongue, though with an odd, somehow softened accent that Haldir did not recognize, so he answered in Westron also, "I apologize my Lady Feia, I assumed you understood my tongue since I did think I heard you use it in your extremity. I am Haldir of Lórien" he said, placing a hand to his heart in elven fashion, and adding the Númenorean courtesy, "At your service," which seemed appropriate.

Haldir was a name that Feia knew. "I fear my night terror has disturbed both of our rest, Lord Haldir. May I offer you wine? The server brought up a flask with my dinner."

"No, I thank you, my lady. But allow me to pour for you; it will be calming."

Whilst Haldir was occupied with the wine, Feia rose hastily and drew on a long, heavy robe. When he returned with the brimming cup, she was tying her hair back with a scarf of silk. Haldir was startled to discover that the lady was quite tiny. The top of her head might barely reach his chin, though she carried herself as a woman much taller. By silent accord they moved to a small table flanked by two chairs and sat opposite one another.

Feia recognized Haldir from the common room this afternoon, or yesterday she supposed, now. She had found herself wondering at that time what he might be thinking, for there had been an air of intensity in his gaze that had intrigued her. But she knew Haldir of Lórien to be a hero and a friend of heroes who came from, what to her, was a magical land of legend.

It had been a long while since Feia had been in the company of any other elf save Meghailin and she found herself soothed by the lovely, well…elvishness of him. Elves all had at least a touch of the healing gift that her friend held so strongly. How much she wished now that she had pressed Meg to come with her, for Feia was not used to being without the sister of her heart and felt more lonesome than she could express.

Feia was sure that together, she and Meg could decipher the meaning of the troubling Dream with its prescience of woe.

And with that thought, the content of the dream was recalled to her and also a thing that had passed her notice which Haldir had said. "Your pardon, my Lord Haldir, but did I rightly hear you say that you understood me to speak Elvish?"

"Yes, my lady, at first I only perceived your distress, but then I overheard you speak the words, 'Ai! Naiú elyë, Ada!' It means, 'Alas! It is not you, Father!' "

"In my Dream I beheld an elf I do not know, his face contorted with rage and hate, the which was directed at me. It wounded me deeply, this hatred, for I somehow knew that ever in the past I would have found there only the deepest love. Then I apprehended an elf of great beauty, the sight of whom was a balm to my suffering, and she bade me fly to Imladris there to seek aid. But the raging elf returned and from his own chest he pulled a knife set with three gems, and stabbed her with it in her heart." Feia pressed her palms against her own breast, overcome by the power of the emotions her vision inspired in her. "Imladris is the Elven name for the land known in Westron as Rivendell, is it not, my lord?"

"It is"

"Then I must travel thence. Though I came to Minas Tirith for a purpose, my woman's sense urges that my original quest must wait, or my heart will die as surely as if it too were stabbed with a knife. I will leave early on the morrow." She nodded to herself once briskly – decision made.

Haldir was moved by the faith of this strange lady, and acting on an impulse the origin of which he could not guess, he said, "My lady, tomorrow I will speak with the King on a matter of personal importance. It may be that after I do, I shall also leave this city and travel north. If you will but wait into the day, I offer you my company and whatever aid that may come with it for at least a portion of your journey."

"I do not believe in chance meetings, Haldir of Lórien, so I shall wait. It may be that we will aid one another in our separate quests."

XXX

Legolas journeyed quickly, at his father's command, by the shortest route toward Eryn Lasgalen, the home of his people. After traveling east, then north from Minas Tirith, he rounded Ered Nimrais, the White Mountains, north and west into the Westemnet of Rohan, there to ford the Entwash.

He had seen no one as he traveled, or rather, been seen by no one. Having been instructed to make haste, Legolas avoided anyone with whom he must attend to social niceties and made instead a cold camp late each evening and an early start of a morning.

He had been tempted to amend this pattern once, whilst still in the heart of the Mark when at dusk, he spied a woman astride a rare night black mare, (black horses had been the target of theft by minions of the Enemy for so long that the trait had become uncommon). She did not observe him, for she would have had to look directly into the sun and possess elf-eyes as well, but Legolas could see her quite clearly and he watched as she lifted aside her hood, shading her eyes with a slender gloved hand the better to scan her surroundings. The sun lit her hair so that he might have believed it was aflame and she appeared to his eyes a luminous manifestation; a fanar. Before he was quite aware of it, Legolas had kneed Arod several strides in her direction, but she pulled up her hood and disappeared over the hill, breaking the spell.

Some days later, Legolas came at last to the Anduin just south of the Field of Celebrant. It was after crossing the Great River that he began to ascertain why he might have been summoned to his home.

Yrch! _Orc!_

Orc in parties larger than he had seen together since the War of the Ring were roaming the land between the river and the southern Mirkwood. Legolas observed signs of three separate large bands on his first morning east of the river, and was forced to alter his route so as not to intercept their course. Bands of such size, not engaged in killing one another, suggested organization – and a threat to the peace and safety of the elves and their neighbors. It was only natural that his father should send for him in order that he might aid his brethren in eliminating such a threat.

Legolas had not known how greatly he had desired such an explanation, nor had he realized how disturbed he had been by the manner of his summons until he felt the tight knot of tension in his shoulders ease.

But some days after fording great Anduin, Legolas began to suspect he was being herded. Early on a morning he had seen a fist of orc, by chance of fate at a time when no cover could have hidden Arod, and he knew he was observed. But the creatures kept to a parallel path, coming no nearer him, yet venturing no further off. By early afternoon he had killed no less than ten orc scouts, retrieving his arrows as he could, for he feared there would be need – yet no attack came.

As twilight approached, Legolas found he was encircled by four bands; each containing twenty or thirty orc, and he could no longer deny that they worked in concert. The southern boundary of Mirkwood was plain on the horizon to the north and east, the direction in which the orc were pressing him, and the haunted mound of Dol Guldur rose threateningly above it. It had been Legolas's intention to keep to the river until well north of this spectre of The Enemy, and to enter Mirkwood above the Old Forest Road where the elves presence was stronger and the hold of evil lessened by their work.

Now he had to choose: either make for the trees and enter the forest in this most perilous place, (trusting his skill both to elude the orc and to evade the dangers there) or attempt to slip past the creatures' snare by night, whilst their strength was greatest.

At last it was sheer stubbornness that chose his course; for Legolas could not abide being goaded, and he resolved to slip past the net about him and break for the north and west at all speed. Through the night he pushed Arod as much as he dared, stopping only to walk and water the horse at intervals. When the night was nearly spent, though only the eyes of an elf could yet discern a lightening in the sky, Legolas broke free of the ring of encircling orc to discover, as he rounded a rocky escarpment, another, larger band directly in his path.

Without hesitation Legolas charged Arod forward, loosing arrows from his bow until all were spent, then he carved a path with his sword until the weapon was lost, caught in the armor of a berserker. Dismounting, he and Arod fought side by side with hoofs and knives until it happened that Legolas was surprised by an orc's lucky thrust with a long dagger in his side.

For a time Legolas battled, but his wound bled freely and presently his reflexes turned sluggish. With that came the realization that he would not survive this night.

There was little doubt what Arod's fate would be if Legolas allowed the horse to be captured, for the orc would eat anything. Snatching a thumb-thick enemy arrow from the quiver of a corpse at his feet he tucked it, together with one of his long knives, under Arod's blanket and commanded, "Noro!" _Go!_ – adding a slap on the animal's hindquarters with a hand red from his own blood.

And Legolas continued to fight – in order to keep the orc from impeding Arod, and also because he could not stop. Arod would naturally seek the nearest safe haven. With the grace of the Valar, the elf fervently prayed, his horse would find safety with one of the Dúnedan or with his own forest kin and the fate of Legolas of Mirkwood would be reported thus.

Legolas's side burned like a stoked forge and every movement sent arrows of pain through his limbs – limbs grown ominously heavy. His vision was a tunnel of gray and to his ears the course orc howls were a memory. "To the keep! Brace the gates!" cried Théoden King. But Théoden was dead and Éomer was King of the Mark, was he not?

Then there was a bright flash; an explosion behind his eyes, and nothing.

Chapter 3:

**Taken **

First there was pain, then heat and thirst, a jarring motion, and more pain. Legolas floated in a sea of sensation for an unknown time, but gradually his mind returned to a level of awareness from which he began to discern his surroundings.

He was seated on a floor of rough wood planks with his knees drawn up and his brow resting upon them. Behind his back, his arms were tied cruelly with rope, pulling his shoulders at a tormenting angle and leaving his hands nerveless. His ankles also were tied, for his boots were pressed tight together and he could not shift them. The air was dense and hot and his breath came in shallow gasps, restricted by his awkward posture and by thick bandages wrapped tight about the wound that was a smoldering fire in his side.

_His wound had been treated! Why? _

Also, Legolas thought, he must have been hit on the head for it throbbed and ached so that he battled nausea. At either shoulder and at his back he felt more rough wood and when the floor heaved beneath him in rocking jolts, occasionally his head connected with more wood above him. A box! He was being transported inside some sort of crate like so much cargo!

He did not know how long he was conveyed thus, but he thought it was all of the day and perhaps the night, also. When his small prison was unceremoniously dropped to the ground and the top portion was removed, indeed the sun was just rising. Legolas nearly wept at the sweet air. Then ungentle hands lifted him, and his limbs unfolded. Legolas struggled not to cry out, writhing helplessly as blood rushed to his tortured muscles.

A brutish face came and filled his vision, fetid breath watering his eyes as he was examined closely. Then the orc pulled his head back by his hair and forced a thick, foul smelling brew past his lips so that Legolas coughed and spat weakly. But he could not expel it all! Much of it seared a trail down his throat.

At last they left him, tethered by his bonds to stakes in the ground, to shiver and burn by turns through the day in a fevered haze. But as night descended, orc awoke and stirred around him. One of the creatures out of his sight ordered another to check his wounds, but the underling was having none of it.

"It ain't my fault Harn stuck his knife in it!" the orc complained.

"The Master won't be pleased if the elf whelp dies before time. Keep it alive, Onkuk, or it won't be me what ends screaming!"

"I ain't goin' near it," the orc answered. "I seen it do for Yjench with a twist of its dirty hands."

"You creeping coward! You'll do your duty or I'll tickle your liver with steel!"

Onkuk apparently decided that the elf was the lesser threat, for immediately an orc came and Legolas was forced to take another choking dose of foul medicine. After the application of a reeking poultice to the wound in his side, Legolas was lifted and half dragged toward what appeared to be a chest set upon long poles for carrying.

At sight of it, Legolas's vision went red and he lost all rational thought. Straining wildly, he managed to 'do for' Onkuk, who perhaps should have held out after all, breaking the twisted creature's neck between his knees. But that did not stop his other guards from mercilessly doubling the captive elf back into that appalling crate.

XXX

A wide eyed Peony Burrows met her at the bottom of the stairs in the common room of The Tree, early in the morning after Feia's less than restful night.

"I was just coming to fetch you milady," she fluttered, "you're to breakfast in the private dining room – at the request of the King!" As Feia digested this startling news, the little hobbit seemed to see her truly for the first time, her gaze sliding from Feia's multitude of complex braids to her sword, to her trousers tucked into the tops of soft knee high boots. "Oh!" She tsked, scandalized, "and no time for you to change into a proper gown."

Charmed, Feia smiled and gestured for the innkeeper to lead the way, "Sadly, no. We mustn't keep the king waiting!" she said. As she was caught up in the hobbit's wake, however, Feia realized she was quite nervous. Perhaps a moment to change into something appropriate for the occasion would not have gone amiss after all. The correct attire could do wonders for a person's confidence, a silk gown for instance – to meet this most famous of personages. But a full suit of armor would not have been enough to slow her heart, which galloped as though Feia raced toward some crossroads of fate.

Ever prior, on missions from the Powers That Be, Feia and her friends had been given to know a fair amount about the worlds they would visit from the inspired literature of the men and women of Earth. Always she would arrive upon these worlds some short time after the conclusion of those supposedly fictitious accounts – though the works were created long ago during the Great Awakening and Ascension on Earth.

A thirst for these stories close on obsession characterized her stay on Earth, many years ago, when she and the other Chosen of Alderaan had studied at the Federation's Academy. The fact that the stories she had so enjoyed reading were quite real, though penned centuries before the events depicted took place, was a boggle she tried not to think about. That they seemed to have been brought into existence for use by herself and her people was, frankly, too much to contemplate. It spoke of a bit more attention to her doings by the Great Powers than was strictly comfortable. Though Feia believed that every being-of-light's life and purpose was given at least equal attention; having the knowing of it implied a high degree of responsibility for which she was not convinced she was equipped.

Middle Earth was a world Feia knew in a depth of detail unheard of on her past missions, for the inspired author was none other than the great John Ronald Ruell Tolkien; literary genius and linguist, and a very clear channel. The man had informed his stories with a wealth of historical information, appropriate mythologies, accurate maps and linguistic studies. Had Feia been more of a scholar, she might have been able to write a sonnet in Quenyan, interpret ancient Dwarvish runes, and extrapolate the etymology of any common named thing on Middle Earth simply by virtue of studying the voluminous work of Professor Tolkien.

Feia was not a scholar, but as it was, she could safely determine from Tolkien's work that King Elessar, brave and wise, was the first and most important person on her short list of those that should be informed of the changes her presence here augured. Only, she had thought it would take a bit of time to gain an audience with the King. Now she was about to meet him and she did not feel prepared. At least, she thought with a secret smile, it was less abrupt than the manner in which she had met King Kelson of Gwynedd, whom she had nearly crashed into with a failing shuttlecraft full of Alderaani refugees hurtling from the sky.

Entering the private dining room at The Tree, Feia was grateful indeed for Professor Tolkien's work, for she could have easily guessed the names of the people gathered there with Haldir. Instead, she allowed him to make the introductions to Elessar and Arwen, King and Queen of Gondor and Gimli son of Gloin, dwarf of the Misty Mountains.

Bowing, her first words to their graces of Gondor was an apology, "Your majesties, my lords, I do hope my garb does not offend, but I intend to journey far and quickly this day and the more traditional attire for a woman in this land is cumbersome" _a death trap, more like,_ she thought privately. "I am, however, at your service."

It was the Queen who responded, "Lady Serafé, men and women may not deem it so, but elves have always held that a person's clothing should serve them, not hinder them. You are attired appropriately for a journey of unknown rigors, and therefore appropriately for a meeting to discuss one. Please, sit with us and break your fast."

"You are gracious, my queen," Bowing again, (curtsying seemed odd without skirts) Feia sat, all the while aware that the gaze of King Elessar was upon her – a weighing and measuring gaze.

"Are you?" he asked at last.

Feia paused with the mug of mead Gimli had offered, half the distance to her lips. "Am I what, your majesty?"

"Are you at our service?" He rubbed his jaw, considering, "for you are an outlander from we know not where who has sworn no oaths to us, though you appear as if from air, range across our lands seeming at will, and dream our dreams without our leave."

_Dream our dreams? _

"She is an Elf Friend, Sire." Haldir said softly as if reminding the King of something shared earlier. At which Feia finally set the untouched mug down upon the table with a sharp click. How in the light did Haldir know _that?_

"Close your jaw lass, The Tree is as clean an inn as you're likely to find, but flies being flies, you're sure to swallow one eventually with an invitation like that." Gimli saluted her with his own mug of mead.

Feia did shut her mouth, but her eyes stayed wide as she considered how best to respond. And then she proceeded as she always did, at least ultimately. She followed her heart.

Standing slowly, her eyes hooded and thoughtful now, Feia circled the table to kneel before King Elessar of Gondor – to kneel and swear fealty as she had never done for Kelson or any other ruler since her father. Unsheathing her short sword she set it upright before her as he waited, lounging with long legs stretched out before him, unmoving and expressionless. She did not offer the blade to him, for she feared he might refuse, instead she kissed the hilts and said, "I do not know what oath you would receive, or if you would have any, but accepted or not, I speak from my heart the oath that is mine to give:

King Elessar Telcontar, King of Gondor on Middle Earth, I Serafé Organa Naberrie of Alderaan, daughter of Padme Endari Naberrie of Naboo and Bail Riatt Organa of Alderaan, offer you my service, my knowledge, my skill and my loyalty for your use as you will, saving only that which would harm my soul – my blood before yours, unto death in the service of the light."

She held the King's eyes for the length of it, but by the time she had concluded her speech she was quivering with nerves. Never had her instincts planted her so firmly out on a limb. Accepted or not, the oath was made, and she must keep it forever. It would be a most uncomfortable and long life of service if Elessar would not receive her.

What had possessed her to do such a thing? And why that oath in particular, for surely a lesser promise would have done as well. And yet the oath felt supremely right.

Slowly, _very _slowly, Elessar sat up in his chair, never taking his eyes from hers, "Serafé Organa Naberrie of Alderaan, wherever that may be, Elf Friend, and dreamer of Dreams, we have much to discuss and soon, but I accept your oath as sworn." He gently took her sword and pressed the hilts to his lips. "Let us see what we shall make of that in the days ahead, my liege lady." and he returned her sword with a bemused smile.

Chapter 4:

**The Madness of Thranduil **

It was still early with many hours left of the night to endure and already his muscles cramped painfully. Legolas disciplined his mind to rest in elven fashion and replenish his strength as he could, but he knew it would do him little good. He was too ill and too injured to escape, but he would try anyway. He would try, he would fail, and he would die cleanly.

It would have to be the morning, for another night like this one could not be endured. Legolas allowed his perception to drift away from his suffering and set the intention to be conscious and aware with the dawn. But almost immediately he was jarred from his semi-conscious state when his small prison was dropped to the ground and the lid was lifted to reveal the flickering of a multitude of fires. When the orc hauled him out where he could better see, the realization of where he was froze the blessed cool air in his lungs.

The slopes of a high hill rising up out of a forest of trees and dotted with the campfires of perhaps two thousand orc crowned at its apex by the haunted remains of the fortress of Dol Guldur; a crouching shadow of evil. Clearly, the Hill of Black Magic had a new master.

Before he had fully recovered himself, Legolas was forced roughly to his knees by two of the larger orc gripping his shoulders.

Gradually his eyes perceived what he took to be a hallucination, for striding toward him was an elf of commanding stature wearing about his neck a torque quite large enough to be a breast plate and studded with three jewels. The fever-dream moved to stand over Legolas where he crouched, leaning over until their faces were so close that Legolas could feel clean breath against his cheek.

Surely not real – surely not!

But Legolas could not stop his own voice, roughened with disuse, with pain and now with hope, from whispering,

"Ada!" _Father! _

XXX

The breakfast audience at The Tree was quickly over, for the King truly had already made his decision. "Further talk must wait," he had said. "Now we must take action."

And when the King made a decision, action could be taken very quickly, Feia learned, for immediately a messenger was dispatched to fetch Prince Faramir from Ithilien to perform his duty as Steward of Gondor. The King, it seemed, would journey with them.

An hour later, Feia stood at Cricket's side, making a final check of her gear whilst Elessar did likewise for his own mount, Roheryn, a great shaggy beast large enough to make Cricket appear a pony beside him. Gimli was already mounted behind Haldir on gray Hithui, which Haldir had explained was the elven name for mist. Another horse, Hasufel, bore the extra baggage, though he was clearly trained as a battle steed. Burrus held Hasufel's halter, the hostler's eyes respectfully downcast.

The Queen moved to stand at Feia's side, speaking softly for her ears. "I do not know what compelled your oath to my husband, for I do think you were as surprised as he, but I sense that you are prepared to fulfill it honorably."

"I am prepared, my queen," Feia responded, and with a start she realized that the courtesy was reality, for Arwen was her queen, now. "On my life, I shall fulfill it, spirit and letter." And she bowed slightly, hand to heart, to honor the queen's heritage.

Arwen looked deeply into Feia's eyes, her elven gaze solemn. Then suddenly she nodded and her face brightened somewhat; though concern clouded her eyes. The queen took Feia's arm companionably and Feia had to control a start of surprise at the unexpected intimacy. Then the Queen sighed, saying "I wanted to believe that all danger was behind him, behind _us! _I wanted to believe all evil had been cast from Middle Earth with the end of The Enemy, but the King's premonition of grief is strong. For days it has nagged at him, and then last night..."

The queen turned her away from the waiting king and his companions. "You were not there to hear him relate it, but Elessar dreamed yester eve – a powerful Dream." As Arwen spoke of her husband's dream, Feia felt chilled. The king's dream and her own exhibited every appearance of being linked, but how – and why?

Then Arwen said, "He was up all the hours afterward pondering what it may portend, and when morning came he immediately sought out his friend Gimli. Gimli, it seems, had plans to meet this morning with Lord Haldir, and we made shift to accompany him. You see, some days ago, Prince Legolas was summoned home by his father, King Thranduil. The manner of it did not set well with Gimli, and apparently no better with Haldir.

"Elessar, for his part, has kept his worries close. My husband is loath to interfere in the business of elves and even less in a private matter between father and son. But it has vexed his mind! The dream has caused him to wonder: is there something more in the summons than was avowed?

When the king spoke his dream to our friends, Haldir became agitated. He claimed that by chance he had met a strange woman – you, whose dream in the night seemed much like unto that of my husband. Reluctantly, for though you did not ask it of him, Haldir considered your talk together a matter of confidence, he shared your dream with us as you had described it to him. Now, I must ask you, do you know Prince Legolas?"

Feia shook her head firmly, trying to clear it, "We have hastened to a number of assumptions, my queen. First, we are discounting the possibility that the dreams might not be true. Second, they may have no relationship to one another save a coincidence of similarity. And third, neither dream may have any connection with Prince Legolas at all, despite his friends' concern for him. Certainly it would be odd if my dream did, for I do not know him and I know not why I should dream of him."

But Feia did know, or at least she suspected, and fear lodged itself firmly in her heart – fear and wary anticipation. Such strange synchronicities were common enough to her people, but only between Concinnati. Could the one whose lifesong harmonized with her own be Legolas of Middle Earth? Could the hideous peril of her dream be the peril of her own life's mate? Feia shuddered, and felt Queen Arwen's arm tighten around hers.

"I do not claim to know, Lady Serafé, but I think it unlikely that you would go haring off on a quest if you were not certain that your dream were true. My husband also, understands well his own mind. Elessar connects the dreams with Legolas and that is enough for me to believe that you also are connected with him. That makes you family, of a sort. And you are an Elf Friend," she smiled, amused, "though apparently you did not know that any elf can sense it."

"I knew. I had forgotten it."

Arwen continued more seriously, "We shall be friends one day I think, you and I, and I do not require a Foreseeing to predict it." Feia was startled again when the Queen touched her lips lightly with her fingertips then pressed those fingers to Feia's mouth saying, "Námarië, Feia of Middle Earth."

XXX

"Ada!" Legolas whispered hoarsely.

He did not see it coming, and never could he have predicted the backhanded blow which sent him sprawling with its force, bound hands unable to break his fall. His head reeled and spun as his mind frantically grasped for anything in this nightmare that made sense.

On a ragged gasp, Legolas breathed the question, "Ada, An?" _Father, Why?_

This time he saw the booted foot aimed at his middle, but was helpless to defend against it. He was swallowed by pain as the wound in his side broke open again and only by a fingernail did he cling to consciousness.

"You will not call me that, _Traitor!"_ The voice was Thranduil's. It _was _– but so changed - so full of hate! "Did you think you could conspire against your people and all would be forgiven? I have no son!"

"Hanna ilyae caita, Ada!" _It is all untrue, Father!_ The second kick drove out all the air in his lungs and sent Legolas spiraling into gray oblivion.

XXX

Once again, pain was the first sensation Legolas perceived; pain in his shoulders, pain in his side, pain in his head, and a strange almost rhythmic pain like trails of liquid fire across his chest. It took some while for the elf to remember how to command his eyes to open and longer still for him to focus through the haze of blood and sweat that hindered his sight. What he saw made him fervently pray for blindness to return.

Legolas had been suspended by his bound wrists from the limb of a beech tree, and now Thranduil wielded a heavy leather whip which he recklessly flailed against his son. The elven king's face was contorted in fury beyond reason and he shouted what sounded like mindless imprecations.

Most of what Legolas could discern from his father's wild rant was meaningless to him: "Edainriel nae Fennas – Tarcaita aberethië tarcaita!" _Lady of the Gates – Liar, and wife of one who lies!_

But other parts of Thranduil's tirade were all too clear and lodged a leaden weight of grief in Legolas's heart: "Nalyë ben-adar!" _You are fatherless! _"Nainú uindole!" _I lament that you were ever born! _

Already, the whip had raised angry red welts in a pattern of suffering on Legolas's chest. One blow had even rent a slash across his brow from which a curtain of red flowed, making it appear to his eyes that his father moved through a sea of blood.

It took all his last reserve of strength to form words at all, and he knew, now, that speaking would only bring more pain – but Legolas had no choice. He had to ask. He needed to know.

"Anin pedo! Elenyasse ú-chebin nótimële?" _Tell me! How have I failed you? _

Thranduil froze, his chest heaving, and his maddened eyes focused sharply on Legolas. "How?" slowly the elven king's face purpled with renewed rage, _"How?!"_ he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. "You ally yourself with mortals against your people; you join yourself to a woman who would deny the elves Valinor. I have Seen it! And you dare to ask…you dare to…" with a hideous snarl, Thranduil raised his hand and lurched toward his helpless son. In that instant, in his father's eyes, Legolas read his end.

"Ai! Naiú elyë, Ada!" _Alas! It is not you, Father!_ Legolas cried.

There was a sickening crack when Thranduil's hand, fisted around the heavy handle of the whip, connected with the side of Legolas's head. The blow spun the elven prince around and slammed his body against the beech's trunk, there to rest in stillness.


	2. Summerland Chapters 05 to 09

**Naeore Laerien** (Summerland of the Heart)

Chapter 5:

**Thread of Hope **

The company made haste in their pursuit of Legolas and an answer to the riddle of his summons. There was little opportunity for talk, for they drove themselves under sun and moon. It had been agreed that they would travel to Rivendell by way of the high passes north, still clear, but chancy in early autumn, rather than taking the southern route through the gap of Rohan, for they hoped that rumor of Legolas, if he were imperiled, would come to them before reaching the Last Homely House.

Haldir ran before the company scouting the paths ahead as he had done for a portion of each day of their journey, and he was no longer surprised to see evidence of the movement of large numbers of orc. They had met the first band just north of the river Anduin early in the afternoon. And that had been only the first surprise of the day!

The Lorien elf and the king had both seen the signs almost immediately after fording Anduin, and were engrossed in studying the ground to determine what the earth could tell, when Haldir's head suddenly snapped up and Gimli called from Hithui's back. Thirty orc had cleared a copse of trees ahead and had marked them, or at least they had marked two smallish figures, hooded and cloaked with four horses…easy meat.

Elessar and Haldir leapt back onto their mounts as the orc charged in, and along with Feia, they used their bows to good advantage. The lady was competent enough, Haldir conceded. Together, the elf and ranger nearly halved the number of orc they must face, but there were a few orc casualties sprouting fletching matching the lady's.

When blades came into play, Elessar shouted for Feia to keep to the rear and cover with her bow, but presently the tangle of friend and foe became too dense for her fire, and she leapt instead into the fray with her short sword and knife. And that was when things became truly interesting.

The king called out to Feia, "Fall back!" but she did not heed him. Instead she placed her back to his and engaged the enemy with her blades. Elessar angrily carved out the throat of his opponent and spun on her, "Is this how you keep your oaths, lady, by disobeying my first direct command!" he roared.

The lady would not be cowed. "I swore that oath on my sword – my life before yours! We have no time for errors of misplaced chivalry." And with that she gave no more attention to the debate, for the orc were quite occupying enough. The king forbore further argument, (for the moment) in order to himself attend to the business of orc-butchering.

As the fight continued, the male companions were in some danger of coming to injury from inattention to the enemy, for their concern for the lady's welfare was a distraction. But somewhere Feia had acquired a style of fighting that greatly reduced the liability of her diminutive size and she proved to be something of an asset in the end.

When their last few opponents fled the field, it was Haldir who had the last standing opponents to dispatch, and therefore it was Haldir who gathered in their mounts while his companions dealt with the fleeing stragglers. Feia returned after some time with a double handful of arrows, calmly and efficiently retrieved from the fallen foes and carefully cleaned. Some were shorter and fletched in her own black and white fletching, and the greater portion long and fletched in white and gold in the Lórien fashion. These she silently handed off to Haldir while Elessar laid out what their plan would be for the night.

It seemed that a well-hidden cave near a tributary of Anduin called the Limlight was well established as a camping place of the Dúnedan. It was easily defensible, likely unknown to the yrch, and could be reached by nightfall if they pressed.

And so they pressed; though the rocky terrain in the low hills of the brown lands did not allow them to move faster than a trot for any significant stretch. This allowed Haldir to easily keep ahead on foot, taking care that their path remained clear. Just before the sun touched the horizon, Haldir came to a place where he no longer knew the way. It appeared that the Limlight continued underground, and so he returned to the companions, allowing the king to take the lead.

Elessar showed them a low rock wall where a fissure ran behind a screen of brush wide enough for a large horse to be led through, but no wider. The narrow path proceeded steeply down and finally opened into a small hidden glen where the Limlight reappeared in a cascading falls that created a pool at its foot. The inside face of the glen was a wide mouthed cave, half again as high as a tall man or an elf and as deep as the common room of The Tree. Boulders blocked off another portion of the cave, somewhat less deep and somewhat less tall, but where perhaps eight or nine horses might comfortably shelter – which was all to the good, for there were two horses there already.

And two elves met them pointy ends first. One knelt in the path from fissure to cave, an arrow knocked and several stuck in the ground before him. The other covered from halfway up the falls, with a similar arsenal. By the time Feia had become aware of their presence, however, they were lowering weapons and smiling a welcome. The elf holding the high ground leapt gracefully to stand beside his brother.

And brother he must be, for Feia would have been hard pressed to tell one from another, so alike were they in countenance. Elves all shared that fey quality that named them elves, and so in a way these two had a similarity of appearance to Haldir. But while Haldir's hair was the palest golden blond and his eyes the soft green of a clear pool over moss covered stones, these two had hair as shiny black as Crickets mane and their eyes were grey as a fog shrouded sea.

Clearly everyone knew one another save Feia, for a round of arm clasps were quickly, though formally (these were elves), exchanged to a chorus of "Mae Govannin" _well met._ At last, the king made the introductions and Lord Elladan and Lord Elrohir saluted Feia in the elven manner as they were named.

So, these were the twin sons of Lord Elrond Halfelven of Rivendell, and brothers to Queen Arwen! A matched pair of legends, they were; who ranged the land killing orc in never ending retribution for the ill treatment of their mother, Celebrián, long ago at the Enemy's command. Feia reflected that she seemed to have the knack of falling over heroes of note wherever she went!

Soon a fire, its smoke carried away by a fissure, was cheerily burning and the horses were fed and bedded down. Elessar and Elrohir provided a fresh catch from the pool which Haldir and Feia cleaned and Gimli cooked so that everyone had a hearty meal of fish with toasted bread and cheese. Elladan buried the offal and cleaned the plates while pipes were produced by Elessar and Gimli. But over all the comforting tasks of camp, overshadowing what might have been a merry meeting of friends, hung a heavy pall of things left unsaid.

At last when Elladan returned to the fire, his expression became grave and he addressed them, saying, "My friends, I am loath to share it, but we carry tidings of grief and mystery. It was our intent to pass this night here and then to travel speedily to Minas Tirith there to seek council with the king; but the king it seems, has come to us."

And Elrohir said, "We came upon a field of battle to the north and west of this place where we read the signs. A lone elf was beset by orc numbering one hundred and more. Very many did he kill, for he emptied his quiver, then he struck with his sword from horseback. When his sword was lost, he fought with knives beside his horse who left the print of his hooves on many an orc corpse. The horse escaped, but, alas! – the elf did not. These tokens we did carry from the scene."

Elladan shifted a large blanket-wrapped bundle to the fire and gestured for the companions to gather close. Elrohir folded back the fabric in order to display what it contained.

Inside was a bow similar to Haldir's, the arrows in the hardened leather quiver were fletched in gold and black. The quiver had a broken strap buckled by a silver clasp in form like a leaf. A sword there was also; gently curved with a hilt of black braided leather, and a long elven knife with a white handle scrolled in silver. Next, a cloak identical to those worn by Gimli and Elessar that oft times appeared to Feia's eyes the deep green of summer's canopy while at other times seemed to disappear as grey shadows in twilight. Upon it was a silver and green enameled clasp in the shape of a mallorn leaf, and folded within it was a tunic of green with thread of silver and the shredded remains of a silver shirt.

These items took only a single heartbeat for Feia's companions to scan and recognize. Then Gimli cried out in wordless grief and buried his face in the leaf-clasped cloak, his shoulders shaking.

Elessar whispered a sorrowful, "Oh, no!" and reached out to reverently brush the Lórien bow with his fingertips. The other hand he placed comfortingly on Gimli's shoulder, but Feia was not sure that either friend was aware of the gesture.

Haldir grasped the white handled knife as if he meant to find an orc and kill it then and there. Seeing the knife in Haldir's hands, Elrohir said, "We could not find the other."

"These things belong to Legolas," Feia whispered unheeded.

Her muscles had gone tight and trembling as bowstrings. Her heart was gone, replaced by a heavy emptiness. Why? Why unless it was true? Legolas of the Mirkwood was her Concinnate, her life's destined mate - and he was dead.

The possibility that a Concinnate might exist somewhere for her – that he had not been on Alderaan on that fateful day so long ago, had been a hope Feia had not dared dwell upon. And yet that hope had been a small but persistent flame within her. But now all faith in hope beyond her next breath was spent as that small flame guttered out. Feia found she was holding the air in her lungs, for she did not think she could endure without hope.

Then Elladan spoke again, "Friends, this grief..." His voice faltered and he pressed both hands to his heart, bowing his head until he could continue, "we share your sorrow, but there are two mysteries that accompany this tale. First is this." He took up Legolas's tunic and carefully spread it so that a bloody rent was clearly visible in the side. Then he shook out the silver shirt, but all that was left of it were ragged ends at the collar and sleeves.

Elessar studied the clothing silently for a moment and then he looked at Elladan in consternation. "They bound his wound!" The elf nodded minutely, eyes glittering and the king mused, "Nothing else makes sense…"

"They what!?" Gimli's attention was fully captured, "Aragorn, are you sure?"

"Look, Gimli! See how the fabric of the shirt was cut into strips, here" the king pointed to a rough cut end of about a hand in width, "here and here," he pointed to where similar cuts had been made. "These were purposefully cut. A wounded orc would happily bleed to death before wearing bandages of elven weave.

"Then he is alive. Praise be..." Gimli murmured, and then he laughed, "Ha! Praise be!"

"Fimlain naestel," Elrohir said softly.

And Elessar answered, "Yes, a thread of hope." The king sighed heavily and addressed the elven brothers, "What, then, is your second mystery?"

"We took these things which we had gathered, and rode at speed for the court of King Thranduil. We did not rest, saving to spare the horses, but when we arrived we found no one." Elladan responded.

"Eryn Lasgalen is abandoned."

XXX

The camp was too small and getting smaller by the day. Six elves had gone missing in the night, taken by the sickness, and too few remained of those who had fled Eryn Lasgalen. As soon as the scouts checked in, they would have to move again, or Thranduil's orc would find them tonight, under the full moon.

Queen Nenuiel shuddered at the thought. Only since the last full moon, when orc had freely entered the court of the King of the Woodland Realm, had Nenuiel allowed herself to believe at last that Thranduil had made some evil accommodation with them. Orc, under the command of her husband – _orc!_ How such a thing could be possible, she still did not know.

For many months, as orc activity increased, Thranduil had gone absent for longer and longer periods of time, taking with him such elves as he would choose and making extended forays into the heart of the forest. As time went on, those elves that had gone with him, and then others had begun to show signs of a strange illness. The elves thus beset seemed disheartened and disinterested in their surroundings, in time barely responding to their own names. Eventually, all who fell under this spell would go off in the night and not return. In the past weeks Nenuiel had been able to discover where they had gone. One and all, they had been drawn to Dol Guldur where her husband now ruled.

And Eryn Lasgalen was emptied, for only elves under the direct protection of the king were safe from the harassment of orc. The safety of the few elves with her depended upon movement.

Nenuiel and Galion and others among the elves still with them took turns going to Dol Guldur in order to care for their afflicted people. The orc hardly knew one elf from another, and they were lazy during the light of day; while Thranduil spent his days locked in the evil fortress, emerging only at night. So Nenuiel's elves were able to walk unhindered through the camp on the Hill of Black Magic, making sure the elves suffering under this spell – this sickness were fed and cared for.

That much they would do for as long as they could. There was no predicting who would fall next until they were missed of a morning. Tomorrow, the people could wake to find that it was she who had gone.

Nenuiel's sensitive ears discerned the sounds of three horses approaching and she walked confidently to meet them, for she knew of only one use an orc might make of a horse. It was Suluin and Ancalime, the scouts who had been sent to check the trails to the west and south. The two rode into camp leading a silver-white steed – the sight of which, though she knew not why, caused Nenuiel to go cold with dread.

Ancalime's face was a mask of sorrow as she presented the queen with the tokens that had been found upon this horse and Suluin wordlessly turned the animal about to display the clear print of an elven hand in blood on the horse's rear flank. Nenuiel took the orc arrow and the elf forged blade in her hands and stared at them in numb shock, her surroundings a meaningless blur. But soon her eyes fixed upon the arrow, and the knuckles of the hand that held it went white; until, with a wordless howl of grief and anger she flung the thing away from her. Somehow this must not be true. Somehow Legolas must not be dead for he was all the hope she had left.

Her knees gave way beneath her, and Nenuiel knelt there on the ground, feeling hollow and desperate, clutching her son's blade to her breast.

And that is where Galion found her when he returned in haste from Dol Guldur some time later, with the news that Legolas had been seen there.

"He is well?" Nenuiel asked, her voice very nearly inaudible.

"He is alive," was the grave response. "Nimírië is also there."

Nenuiel closed her eyes the better to perceive the faint hope that fluttered like a moth out of reach. "That is the last of them, then." Nimírië was one of the elves that had been sent to seek aid. Elves had ridden out to the north, west and south – to Imladris, to Caras Galadhon, and to Meduseld and Minas Tirith. The strongest had been chosen – the swiftest and the cleverest, and none had shown any sign of the sickness. Day by day hope dwindled as one after another, the messengers had turned up at Dol Guldur taken by the spell that was stealing the heart of the woodland elves.

Nenuiel stood and faced her old friend, "You will bring me to my son, Galion. This spell will not take him, for he has not been long enough under the influence of the evil that has ensorcelled my husband. It is Legolas who will return with the aid that we so desperately need."

Galion winced. "My Queen," he said reasonably, "we are besieged. Even if the orc allow us to leave Dol Guldur with the prince, they will fall upon us here or wherever we run with him. In order to get Legolas out, we would have to create a diversion. Elves could die, Nenuiel! And for what? Legolas has been ill-used and our best healers have all succumbed to the sickness already. There is no one left to treat him properly and no time to allow healing to come naturally. He was seen at a distance only. I cannot say for certain that the prince would last even to reach the borders of our land."

"Legolas will find the strength to do what must be done, Galion." Nenuiel gripped her son's blade as if willing her strength to flow through it to him. "He will."

Chapter 6:

**A Lady's Faith **

The cool, smooth skin of the beech tree against his ruined cheek was a solid reality for Legolas; the only reality he was willing or able to fully perceive, though hot fire flashed across his back in testament that the beating continued. Sounds like the roar of a forge and the whoosh of a bellows accompanied the rhythm of pain, but it was only the sound of his blood rushing in his ears, and the air escaping his lungs in stilted gasps.

Legolas concentrated on the texture of bark against his burning skin. He focused on the strength of the trunk that was all that supported his limp weight; He imagined the deep roots beneath his knees. Lost between consciousness and coma he desperately sought a place of peace, and he found it in the heart of the tree.

The hum of running sap and the rustle of leaves filled his mind, excluding the sounds of suffering, and became a low sweet song like a gentle lullaby. Then Legolas perceived another song as familiar and distinct as the shape of his hand or the dreams of his heart. Memories played through his mind of moments from his life; not the profound or life altering moments, but the simple moments of pleasure found unsought at odd hours. It was _his _song.

The breeze in the branches above cooled the fires of pain in his body and brought news from far off lands; other songs that a rooted being would otherwise never know. The soft susurration of air whispered through the leaves an echo of the strident anthem of men, the industrious chant of dwarves, the profound lament of elves, and the untroubled strain of hobbits. In accompaniment, Legolas saw flashes of images, random pictures of people working, laughing, playing, grieving and loving. And then, bright and clear and beautiful, he saw the mysterious lady astride her horse in the setting sun, her hair aflame, and he heard something new – the rumor of a rumor of a far off melody that sang to his descant; the descant to his melody.

Legolas opened his eyes and sitting beside him with her legs folded he saw her. Across her knees she held one of his long blades like a talisman, and she reached for him silently, her lips parted as though she might speak. To his eyes she was almost lovelier than he could bear and he grieved that he could not find the strength to reach for her in return, that he would die without knowing her name. He sealed this vision in his heart, and as he did, she drifted away like mist.

The beech's song lulled and crooned, a mother who had never before had the opportunity to mend the hurts of her child with her love, for a tree must send its seedlings forth to stand alone or fall. She cradled this rootless sapling and took his essence deep into the heart of her, and in return Legolas watered her with his blood and with silent tears of gratitude and grief.

The King of the Woodland Elves was mad, but he was not a fool. When Legolas's breathing became deep and even and he no longer flinched reflexively from the harsh cracks of the whip, Thranduil remembered his son's latent gift and looked to the tree. And so it was that he observed the leaves shuddering in time with each blow.

Striding to the nearest fire, Thranduil snatched a burning brand and returned with it to stand over his only child. Without hesitation he thrust the torch against the tree's smooth side and held it.

Presently Legolas stirred, restlessly straining against his bonds. His breath became ragged once more and he moaned, "Naurim! naurim…" _I burn! I burn…_

Throwing the brand aside, Thranduil gave quick orders. Soon, Legolas was tied, staked to the ground, while a few yards away the beech tree was ripped from the earth and set to the torch.

Orc fed the flames with brush and kept it hot, but it required all the hours left of the night to reduce the tree to ash. And all the comfortless night Legolas thrashed and burned, his blood raging with fever, and though he did not utter a cry, all he remembered of the long hours until dawn was screaming.

XXX

Elessar was troubled and could find no rest, and so he kept the first watch of the night.

In truth, a formal watch was unnecessary with three elves present, for elves seldom sleep in order to gain the rest that they require. The lightest of trance states usually suffices for them, from which the slightest disturbance will rouse them. This night, Haldir had stationed himself at the mouth of the cave and the twin son's of Elrond were elsewhere in the moonlit glen, hidden by the shadows of night.

Lady Feia was also awake and abroad, leaving only the king and Gimli to share the fire. The woman had been silent since the revelations of the evening, her expression bleak. Then quite suddenly she had risen from her firelight meditation. Moving to the blanket containing Legolas's possessions, she had lifted the white handled blade, weighing it across her open palms. She must have sensed his scrutiny, for the lady looked up and met his gaze mutely, and then she strode purposefully from the cave carrying the knife with her. That had been an hour gone, and she had yet to return.

Gimli was bent over the task of repairing the broken strap of Legolas's quiver. He had cut a replacement from leather brought along to mend the tack, and the dwarf's thick fingers were making surprisingly deft work of the delicate repair.

"Gimli, you should rest," Elessar said gently.

The dwarf glanced at the king, but hastily looked away when he saw the compassion written there. "The laddie will need his gear in good order when we find him," he said gruffly, making out as though the stitch he was working on required his utmost concentration.

"Indeed he shall," the king agreed with a tiny smile that quickly faded into brooding as he squinted off into the night. Then in one decisive fluid motion Elessar rose. Perhaps it was time at last to unravel the mystery of his most unusual liege lady.

The hidden glen was not large, and so Elessar found the woman easily enough. He was not attempting to be stealthy, but the sound of the cascade masked his footsteps so that Feia was unaware of his approach.

She sat straight-backed upon a low flat rock overhanging the pool at the foot of the falls, her legs folded before her. The long blade of Legolas's knife lay across the open palm of her left hand, resting on her knee. The scrolled hilt lay upon her other knee with her right hand lain lightly over it. The Lady's eyes were closed and her slow exhalations misted in the chill autumn air. Moonlight shimmered along the elf-forged steel, reflected in the dark pool, and glowed in her upturned face.

The king observed her silently for some time, as it seemed she was entranced. In the lady's hands, his friend's weapon struck him as over-large. She appeared fragile, though she had proven this day that she could be quite the opposite. Elessar sensed that in this moment Feia was as vulnerable as a flower beneath a careless heel.

The lady's right hand reached out before her as though she wished to touch whatever vision she had manifested, and then she slowly lowered it again. A moment later she stirred and turned her gaze upon him; not at all alarmed to find him there.

"I thought that I could…I wanted to try…" She trailed off, and then declared, "I think he is alive, my lord." Her expression changed to one of confusion and she looked away, "But it was most odd! Almost as though, in order to travel to him, I had to go through another. Not a person, something else." She pinched the bridge of her nose wearily, and uncertainty was in her eyes when she returned her gaze to the king.

Elessar placed his booted foot upon the stone and rested his forearms on his bent knee. "It is time that we had our talk, my lady." He said.

She had turned away again and was very still now, staring out at the sparkling falls. "Yes," she said softly.

_Very well,_ the king thought. _We shall do it that way._ In quick succession he fired his questions in a firmly commanding tone "Where is Alderaan? What is your purpose here? How did you come to be here? Who named you Elf Friend? And, what is your connection with Legolas?"

Feia took a deep breath. "Alderaan was far from here, but it no longer exists. I came at the behest of the Powers that Be in order to catalyze the ascension of the mortal people of Middle Earth to a state of immortality. I arrived via a portal cut through the fabric of reality by means of a device called a gateway cube created by a Guild Motivator for that purpose. My 'uncle' named me Elf Friend because I made him laugh. And the prince of the woodland realm and I…we are…we may be concinnati…I think. Light! I am not sure." The lady smiled ruefully at the king's flabbergasted expression.

Elessar did not know which of the myriad of questions which the lady's brief and cryptic answers provoked to ask first, but finally the most obvious one sprang to his lips. "You are not, by chance, suffering from some disease of the mind?"

"Perhaps there is another way we can do this, your majesty. I am given to know that you have the gift of healing the ills of the mind." Her lips curved in a small smile. "And no," she assured him, "I have not the need of those skills.

As a healer, you are able to enter into another person's consciousness for the purpose of returning them to health – to life."

The king nodded, though it hardly seemed necessary, for the woman clearly was not asking for confirmation.

"Can you speak mind to mind as elves do?"

Another nod. "I can, but without their ease of rapport and only with those who have some propensity for it."

"My people have learnt this skill over time from the elves among us," Feia said. "It requires a high degree of trust, of course. A person with a powerful mind could conceivably take another's thoughts or memories without their consent, with the potential for considerable damage.

On the other hand," she mused almost to herself, "mutual sharing allows a level of trust to be achieved rapidly that would otherwise take far longer." Feia paused and considered the king seriously and then with a resolute nod she said, "I have given you my oath. You are my king and I will trust you."

"I begin to suspect that obtaining the answers I require would consume half an age of interrogations, else!" Elessar muttered, rubbing his unshaven jaw distractedly. "Very well...I assume your intent is to grant me control of the process?"

"Yes, Sire" Feia said, as she shifted forward upon the rock and then lay back with her head toward the king. "But, I know the direction of your inquiry and I will attempt to present to you the pertinent information."

The king did not answer but raised an eyebrow, his expression droll. Since their first meeting, this woman had had his mind swimming with inquiries and it seemed doubtful that enough pertinent information existed _anywhere_ to answer them all to his satisfaction. Removing his Lórien cloak with a sigh, Elessar rolled it up and offered it as a pillow.

"Oh, thank you," Feia said and lifted her head so that he might place it beneath. "I will place myself in a receptive state, my lord. It may aid us if we have some physical contact since we have not attempted this before – my wrist perhaps or wherever seems appropriate."

"Wherever seems appropriate...right," Elessar murmured taking a seat on the ground beside the rock and making himself comfortable. His shoulder and arm rested easily on the boulder's surface beside the lady and he laid his hand against the meeting of her shoulder and neck where he could feel the steady pulse of her blood with his fingertips.

"Good," she murmured, "I am ready now."

Elessar breathed in deeply and closed his eyes on the exhale. Almost at once his awareness was drawn toward a steadily pulsing amber glow. As his consciousness approached the light, it broadened and flattened and images began to form on its surface. The king concentrated on his first question, "_Where is Alderaan?"_ And with that he was drawn into the light where he could see and feel and sense all that was needful to fully answer it.

It was astonishing, really. Had the lady tried to simply tell him, he was not sure he could have fully comprehended it. But by experiencing through Feia's memories, Elessar had the benefit of all the knowledge of a woman accustomed to thinking in terms of worlds, sectors and galaxies – concepts quite foreign to him. But also, by finding Alderaan through Feia, he was privy to a profound sense of loss – the feeling of being forever bereft of home – and _that_ was a feeling he had once known very well.

"_What is your purpose here?"_ the king asked in his mind, and he flinched at the wave of horror and grief, quickly dampened. This was Feia's memory of waking to the sure and terrible knowledge that Alderaan was destroyed, followed by a knowing that the evil ones responsible could be bent on genocide. What followed were a succession of memories of gathering the remnants of her people, of fleeing, hiding, and fighting, only to flee and hide again.

But in time a fledgling awareness grew into absolute certainty of the synchronicity of events. Feia began to accept that seemingly random occurrences had brought her and her people to each appointed place and time for a purpose, and not only the purpose of finding safe haven.

The appearance of the spirit of Feia's father, killed when their home was destroyed, answered her most pressing questions and she shared these revelations with Elessar. Bail Riatt Organa explained that most of the people of Alderaan had agreed to be born and to die together, though while in flesh they retained no memory of this agreement. That although the act of destroying Alderaan was evil, it had been used as part of a grand scheme for good in which all those beings of light transitioning from life to afterlife at the same moment would lift up the consciousness of those left behind and begin the process of ascension for all the mortal races in the universe, beginning with men. And Feia and her remaining people were a part of that plan.

Carrying the energy of Alderaan, whose people had attained immortality gradually over centuries, the survivors of Alderaan traveled from world to world. Wherever they went, the process of ascension took place; at first over decades, then over a handful of years, then over only a few months, and now almost instantaneously.

The antiquated "fictional" literature of a land called Earth, which had been entertainment for Feia, began instead to be a road map and a guide. Elessar hardly knew what to make of the revelation that a long dead author had written his story before he was ever born, or that countless people had read it and been inspired. The story of the War of the Ring had planted seeds in the men and women of the past, which had helped to shape the present. A bizarre and daunting prospect! But was he merely a puppet lacking free will, playing out a preordained destiny?

Elessar had not been seeking an answer from Feia for this question, but nevertheless she answered him. "_No!_ _The Powers that Be live outside time and can see our choices, seemingly to us, before we make them." _

"_So, had I taken The Ring for myself, the story would have been inspired thus?"_ the king thought.

A silvery chime that Elessar took as Feia's amusement rippled across his consciousness and she said, "_if you had taken the ring for yourself, your story may not have been written at all! You are over-thinking it, your majesty; that way is madness!" _More amusement. "_You wanted to know about the gateway."_

Then Elessar was shown the peril of the collective, and from the lady's knowledge he learned that safety from this menace could only be maintained by not attracting their attention with 'technology.' When the king's thoughts revealed that he did not understand what was meant by this term, Feia showed him that technology and magic are akin, but perceived as different. One would attract the menace, the other would not, but both are the means used to create a desired end. Such an end may be attained by the ingenuity of one's mind and the work of one's hands: technology, or by the implementation of one's will alone: magic. The collective believe that their search for perfection rests in the one and not in the other. And so by magic Feia traveled, keeping Middle Earth free from their dangerous attention.

And on Middle Earth, ascension had already been accomplished. A few people would still choose to transition out through death as normal, and babes would still be born at the same rate for a while, but the process was nearly fully accomplished the moment Feia crossed through the gateway onto the soil of the Westemnet of Rohan.

There was more, something about the immortal elves and their newly fledged immortal brothers and sisters. Feia could not be certain what that entailed, knowing only that it was important.

The king's mind was reeling, but he persisted. "_How is it that you were named Elf Friend?"_

The chimes rang out again. Elessar found himself in a room full of Feia's loved ones. It was evening and the day had been spent in the public eye with her formal investiture as First among the Chosen, heir to the throne of Alderaan, followed by public celebrations.

Now, with her beloved family, which included several who were not blood kin, she celebrated informally, talking, singing, dancing and sharing late into the night. Among these intimates were an elf she perceived as an uncle and his two half-elven children who were to Feia as close as a brother and a sister. Her half-elven sister, Meghailin had been invested that day as well, as Second among the Chosen. One day, she was to be Chief Advisor to the Queen as her father was Chief Advisor to the King.

Celduin, the Chief Advisor, appeared to be a serious-minded elf, his face set in a continually staid expression. It was getting late and one by one, Feia's family had grown tired and gone to their beds. But Bail, Celduin, Meghailin, and Serafé remained awake, engrossed in an intellectual debate - a game. Feia was feeling competitive and alert and managed to turn one of Celduin's arguments. This rarity so delighted the elf that he barked a laugh and impulsively named her Elf Friend.

The others had been stunned! Bail and Celduin were as close as brothers and had been most of their lives, and Bail was King of both humans and elves, yet he was not named Elf Friend – few ever were! Celduin himself seemed taken aback, but a moment later he was granted a Foreseeing. Elessar observed Feia's memory of the elf as he spoke prophetically, "The eldest daughter of Bail Riatt Organa must be named Elf Friend or her concinnate will die before ever they meet. Even if this fate is avoided, both must hold to their faith, or she will be doomed to repeat her mother's sorrow."

Feia had not known what to make of this prophesy, for she did not know then that she, and not Leia was Bail's eldest daughter. But she had little opportunity to dwell upon it, for the next day she and most of the Chosen had been sent to Earth for training. A few short years later, the Chosen Migel turned traitor. As a result, the Emperor took Serafé's elder half-sister captive, and Alderaan was destroyed. Feia had always assumed that the Foreseeing of Lord Celduin had been made false by that event. Surely her concinnate had been killed! But now…

Elessar had to quickly mask the link between himself and his liege lady as a tumble of emotions coursed through her - fear, loneliness, doubt, faith and over all a powerful longing for love and for home. The king was filled with compassion for Feia. She had not explained what a concinnate was, but he could sense what it might mean: A potent bond of the sort that had formed between himself and his beloved Arwen even from their first meeting. He also had been homeless, but that bond was his home. If Feia believed such a bond, such love, could exist between herself and Legolas, then he would not intrude upon it.

Easing out of the link, the king slid his hand from Feia's throat, down her arm to her hand that, as she stirred, he lifted to press with his lips. "Princess, you gifted me richly with your oath and again with your trust," he said. "I pray for all of our sakes that you will find that which you seek."

Seeking Legolas weighed heavily on all their minds, and so long before dawn the restless companions set out. Through what was left of the night they passed as shadows, guided by the combined skills of the elves and of the former ranger who was king, and by the compass of a lady's faith.

XXX

Meghailin hauled a heavy satchel (with a short sword, a bow and quiver, and a hard leather case containing her precious gitar strapped to its outside) through the echoing halls of Rhemuth Keep. Servants, who may have been inclined to offer to bear her burden for her, took one look at her dour countenance and chose instead to allow the lady both her burden and her privacy.

There had been a flaw in her usually excellent logic; a large flaw and there was nothing upon which to lay the blame, saving her own fear. What further sign had she thought was required than that she and her sister had each received their visitations in the same night? The golden ring hanging nestled beneath her clothing belonged to a being – an elf, who needed her; an elf whom she needed just as urgently, and he was far from her on Middle Earth! Of this, she was utterly sure.

Likely, at this very moment, Feia was lounging about drinking tea with him and discussing how completely dense she, Meghailin, was. The whole affair was starting to become altogether unbearable! And to top it off, not a single blasted servant in the palace would look her in the eyes. One poor fellow had yanked at his forelock and backed up so rapidly that he had nearly tripped over the leg of a stand lamp. What was wrong with these people? Had they no spirit?

Meg fingered a small dice-shaped object through the fabric of her belt pouch. Perhaps a dozen times today she had retrieved the gateway cube, intent upon using it; but always she refrained. Meg had no idea where on Middle Earth Feia might now be.

Somehow Meg simply knew that she would be required immediately when she was needed. There was an overwhelming sense of an imminent _something,_ like the deep and pervading quiet – the long slow inhale of nature prior to a violent storm. If Meg appeared prematurely, somewhere on Middle Earth far from where she was supposed to be, and then Feia came to find her in Gwynedd, the results could not be predicted. They might be devastating!

So wherever she went Meg carried her belongings, expecting at any moment to see a gateway open before her. At night she tucked herself into bed for another night of fretful sleeplessness, with her boots ready to step into and her pack ready to snatch on the run. And while she was exhausted from the stress, it was challenging not to imagine Feia, calm and rested, cruelly enjoying the thought that Meg was being forced to wait.

_Oh very well,_ Meghailin conceded to herself on a sigh, _I specifically asked Feia not to fetch me unless the need was great._ And really, the likelihood was that her sister was embroiled in some harrowing adventure or another! Missions from the Powers That Be were seldom as easy as simply showing up. So Feia was almost certainly not idly drinking tea with anyone; particularly not Meg's elf. But it amounted to the same thing in her book! If they were going to need her urgently, she wished that they would get on with it.

Meg had reached the door to her own apartments when a deep and penetrating voice spoke from the shadows, jolting her from her churning thoughts. "You have been avoiding me, my lady."

Kelson Haldane of Gwynedd was one of the most beautiful men Meghailin had ever seen, radiant with the light of an immortal and with the power of a Deryni and a King. Meg caught an involuntary breath at the sight of him emerging into the flickering light of the lamp across from her door, but covered it with an only slightly exaggerated look of startlement. He did not appear to notice. There was not a lady at court that did not flutter around him – from girls barely old enough to understand why, to matrons of an age to be his grandmother – and he never noticed any of them save Queen Araxie. Not anymore.

He lounged against her doorframe, with his arms crossed over his chest, looking almost boyishly sullen.

"Whyever would you imagine I was avoiding you, Sire?" Meghailin asked innocently, all the while frantically attempting to formulate a gracious way of avoiding him.

"Because you are leaving, obviously! Because you intend to follow her! And because you intend to give me no more opportunity to talk you out of it than she did!" He hoisted himself off from against the wall and paced a step or two towards the lamp, which flashed in the depths of arresting grey eyes – the Haldane trademark. Then he turned to her abruptly, gesturing in exasperation at her obvious preparedness to do just as he claimed.

"Um…will you come in, Your Majesty?" Meg allowed, giving in to the inevitable.

The king simply opened her door with a shove and gestured for her to precede him. This was not going well.

Unburdening herself of her satchel, Meghailin stalled for time. "Shall I make us a pot of tea, Highness?" she said, her voice sounding overly light to her own ears.

"What? Tea? Yes, yes, why not." The king said distractedly. He laid a parcel she had not noticed he carried onto a small table, and then simply stood looking at it.

Meg used a poker to swing the already filled kettle on its iron hanger over the fire. The servants in the palace were really quite considerate, even if they were steering clear of her at the moment, she conceded.

Stringing out the process as long as she could, Meg took great pains to prepare the perfect pot of tea, and then she poured for the king and at last turned to face him. He was pacing in front of the settee. But when she handed him his tea, generously sweetened with honey as he preferred, he sat down and stared into it contemplatively.

Well, Meg certainly was not likely to remind the man why he was here. She sat in an overstuffed chair, resisting the urge to draw up her legs as she normally would, and sipped at her own spicy tea. _Hah!_ She thought whimsically, _whose drinking tea now?!_

At last Kelson spoke, and it seemed the irritation had completely leached from him. "I know neither of you ever promised me anything. I have respected that these many years and never have I asked for more, for I knew that in conscience you could not give it."

Well, that was not strictly true, though perhaps the king did not know that she was privy to the proposal of marriage he had made to Feia last year, before he fell in love with and married his beloved Araxie. Meg wisely decided she would not recall that to him at this time, however.

"Through the years you have both served Gwynedd well," Kelson continued, "but never have I been able to reward you properly with lands and titles befitting your stations and your loyal service. And now Princess Serafé has gone with only the most perfunctory leave-taking. I suppose I had hoped, with affairs of the New Republic stabilizing, that you both might have considered making Gwynedd your permanent home."

He looked so despondent sitting there, that Meg could not help but put aside her own frustrations. Setting down her tea, she leaned toward him. "Oh, Sire! Of course we considered it. Gwynedd has been more a home to us than any place since Alderaan was destroyed. It has been a privilege to live here and serve your people. And you, Majesty! There is no amount of service we could provide to balance the scales between us. The blood of our people is mingled now, and Alderaan will live in the children of Gwynedd, because of you! Because you allowed so many of us to make new lives here.

Feia is gone, and I go to join her, it is true, for we must follow the path laid before us. But Kelson, you must believe we both hoped Gwynedd might remain our home."

She hadn't realized how true that was until this moment, and Meg's eyes filled with tears. Maybe it was not fear that had kept her from going with Feia at all! Or, at least, not fear alone. Her elf had said "Túllen," _I come._ She had known he had meant that he would find her, but she had hoped that he might find her here. That she need not be uprooted again as she had so often been before.

"My lady, I am sorry!" Kelson was kneeling beside her chair, a hand laid in concern upon her wrist. She had not seen him move. "Please! I only want to understand. It was not my intention to distress you!"

Meghailin looked into those mesmerizing grey eyes and she fully comprehended why Feia had been formal and brief in her goodbyes to this man. The king of Gwynedd had a bit of her sister's heart and he always would, though they were not concinnati. "Majesty, there is no need to apologize. The least you deserve is to understand." She covered his fingers with her free hand and smiled at him warmly.

"I will tell you what Feia would not, and I pray that it brings you comfort. The Powers that Be gave my sister a mission, yes, but they also gave her a personal message.

I know a small part of what passed between the two of you last year, Sire. Feia had sincere reasons for refusing you. The stability of the New Republic was still in question, then. It was entirely possible that we would have been required to leave quickly in order to ensure the safety of Gwynedd and of our people sheltering here. My sister and I were still potential targets for our enemies.

But what Feia may not have shared is this: she desired that you should have that which you have always sought, that which you deserve, but for dynastic purposes you were willing to set aside. You do not call your soul's mate by the same name that we do, concinnate, or understand it in quite the same way; but you do have it, now, with your Queen Araxie. Feia has been given the opportunity to have that also; at least that is how I interpret the message she was given. And I pray I am right! That would mean a real home, at last, for her."

_And for me,_ she silently and hopefully added.

"I am not sure my sister would have found that easy to tell you, Your Majesty." Meghailin continued, "For all the practice she has had, she is no better skilled at farewells than most."

"If what you say is true – if the lady may find what I have found with Araxie where she has gone, then I would in no way have attempted to keep her from it. Thank you, Lady Meghailin," Kelson kissed her hand and stood. "Will your search for a home continue?"

Meg's hand fluttered at her breast over the ring hidden there. "I have received a similar message, Highness," Please let it be that! "The Powers that Be are not needlessly cruel. If Feia's concinnate is on Middle Earth, then mine is also. We will not be separated." Speaking these words aloud for the first time had a startling effect upon Meg. She sat straighter as a feeling of tranquility settled into her heart. Nudging out all fear, her faith reasserted itself. All would be well.

Meg realized Kelson was speaking. "…your belongings with you as if you will have to depart at a moments notice. Will this be my only opportunity to say goodbye to you?"

"I do not think I shall see you again," Meg said, and in her heart she was sure that it was true.

"I thought that it might be so," Kelson said as he strode to the table where he had laid his parcel earlier. It was a cloth bag, and from it he produced a slender box as long as his forearm as well as a parchment wrapped something. "I had these made some time ago in the hope that I might present them as gifts on the day when I received your oaths at last. You will take them with you, my lady, with my gratitude." He laid them on the settee and said briskly,

"You shall be missed; both of you. I pray one day we will meet again; and as we now share immortality, I refuse to accept that we never shall." He bowed to her then, and rapidly took his leave. He was, it appeared, no better at leave-taking than Feia.

Meg sat smiling softly when he was gone, reveling in her newfound serenity. At last she stirred and took up the items that the King had left in her keeping. The slender box contained a letter, along with a beautifully wrought and serviceable dagger, sheathed and belted in embossed leather, stained a dark red. The design of the dagger's hilt broadened her smile, but this was not her gift. She replaced it with the letter in the box and took up the paper wrapped bundle that contained the gift that the King had meant for her.

It was a deep green cloak, richly but subtly embroidered in green on green, with a removable fur lining. She swung it round her shoulders and it fell exactly to her ankles setting her wondering how Kelson had managed to have it fitted so perfectly. Then she saw the magnificent golden cloak clasp. Reproducing the ancient Deryni symbol of a master healer, it was enameled in healer's green and set with an emerald.

Chapter 7:

**A Race **

When the dawn light became visible at last above the towers of Dol Guldur, Legolas was dosed once more with medicinal brew before the orc sought to hide from the sun's bright face. The foul draught burned through him, painfully reawakening his tortured body, but the sun's gentle warmth was welcomed by the elf.

Vaguely, Legolas wondered why even the slightest effort was being made to keep him alive, unless it was for the purpose of drawing out his torment.

He tested his bonds, but they were secure; and the effort cost him dearly. Legolas lay in a semi-conscious fog of pain for an unknowable time in order to recover. But it did not matter, for had the bonds simply melted away, he still could not have moved far unaided. Hunger and dehydration, coupled with his wounds, had left his body weak – depleted. Truly, he was astonished he had survived the night.

The delirium of fever came and went, but Legolas sensed that it was the knife wound which would kill him, for even his shallow breathing was enough to cause it to burn like a brand and it seemed to have its own rhythm; a wailing counterpoint to his sluggish heartbeat. The wound had gone bad.

As the morning wore on, orc moving into the shadows were replaced by other beings emerging from them. Elves appeared all throughout the clearing, walking calmly and unconcernedly, or simply standing or sitting in the sun. At first Legolas could not credit his own eyes. It was an agony to move his aching head, but he moved it; this way and that he turned, trying to convince himself that he was hallucinating.

Eventually an elf came and stood looking down at him with an oddly vague expression. Legolas knew him, and in a rasping voice he managed to ask, "Brewain, Náim Loren?" _Is this a dream?_

But Brewain simply stared at his prince, with his head slightly cocked to one side. Presently he turned and wandered aimlessly away, leaving Legolas to call after him weakly, "Uvalyë úpedo anin?" _Will you not speak to me?_

The sun rose higher and Legolas found it more and more a challenge maintaining consciousness, never quite knowing what was real. At one point he believed he dreamed that the elf maid, Nimírië, approached gathering grass like a bouquet of flowers, the which she solemnly placed upon his chest as though he were laid out for his funeral. Sometime later he awoke with a start that sent a mound of grass sliding from his chest to the ground, but the movement also enflamed the festering wound and he passed quickly back into oblivion.

Something nagged at his mind. There was pain – always pain, but also a sound. It was the sound that nagged. There was something about the sound that was important. There was something he was supposed to do; something he was supposed to understand. Words! It was words. He forced himself to listen to the words.

"Ernil nin! Lasto antoië, Legolas. Nás miruvor." _My prince! Open your mouth, Legolas. It is Miruvor._

Miruvor. Miruvor would be most welcome. Legolas drank, only choking a little. Comforting, sustaining warmth from the heartening cordial flowed through him and awareness crept slowly back. Another voice was speaking as though from afar.

"Henná nwalmen ya Thranduil echant?" _Thranduil has done this?_

The first voice answered. "Nenmáië, Bereth nin." _With his own hand, my queen. _

"Galion?" Legolas whispered, "Naneth!" _Mother! _

"Dîn, Sén nin. Und e yulda!" _Hush, my son. Drink!_ A flask was pressed again to his lips and he drank deeply. This time the warmth spread and grew through Legolas, easing his pain and sharpening his focus.

"Venwa vemae naeûrië nane nin?" _Is my mother also mad?_ Legolas asked.

The answer came with a flat mirthless laugh, "Úvenasí" _Not yet._

Legolas found that he was supported against Galion's chest and he was being pressed to drink once more. As he became aware of his surroundings, he saw that they had moved him to a different place. He could neither see the hulking structure of Dol Guldur nor any sign of orc. Elves were about the tasks of a hasty camp and none wore the empty expressions of the elves he had seen, though their expressions did not comfort him. He saw worry there, and shock, and the sort of determination that he had come to associate with people doing what must be done even when there is no hope.

With care, Nenuiel cut away the orc bandage so that she might treat the injury it concealed, but the pain of that alone was enough to cause her son to bite back a cry. Back arching and muscles taught Legolas struggled in Galion's steadying grip, as even his mother's gentlest touch was an agony. He was hardly aware when some time later Galion helped Nenuiel rebind the wound, after which they pressed the flask once more to his lips entreating him to drink deeply.

He only managed a mouthful before consciousness fled.

The woodland queen's expression was not nearly so tender as her touch while she bathed her son's many wounds with a soft cloth and a steaming bowl of herb-scented water. The wetness on her cheeks more than hinted that her severity was a mask concealing much fear and sorrow.

As she catalogued his injuries, the thought of how each was acquired battered Nenuiel's heart and will. Legolas's wrists, the flesh raw from his bonds, she slathered with a numbing salve and wrapped in clean soft bandages. The many whip wheals received the salve, as well. Then she began gently bathing his face and applying salve to the cuts and cool compresses to the swollen flesh about his eyes, his cheek, and his jaw.

Throughout her ministrations Legolas moved in and out of consciousness. When the sight of the sizable lump caked with blood behind his ear caused Nenuiel to catch her breath in concern, her stricken son attempted to meet her gaze with eyes suddenly clear with understanding. But the elven queen looked quickly away from the awareness of death she saw written there and would not meet his eyes again.

When she was finished she left Legolas to sleep, allowing Galion to lead her away.

"You can see that this cannot be risked, Nenuiel," her husband's aid argued. "It is a hard ride to Imladris. The prince will not last a day; perhaps not even an hour on horseback! Let us endeavor to hide him with us away from Thranduil's wrath. Perhaps in a few days time he will be recovered sufficiently to attempt such a journey." _And perhaps by then he will be dead from that wound, and there will be an end to his suffering,_ he thought privately.

"No Galion," Nenuiel responded, "It must be now or it shall never be. I have Seen Legolas arrive alive and whole at Imladris. I do not know how this can be, but we must place our trust in it.

Do you believe that as a mother I would choose to add to his pain? Do you not comprehend how heavily my son's fate shall lie upon him? When next Legolas returns to his woodland home, it must be to take his own father's life." Tears filled Nenuiel's eyes, and she allowed them to flow unhindered. "But there is more at stake than the fate of my son or the life of my husband. Legolas will endure for our people, and so shall I!"

Galion sighed, not without sympathy, but instead filled to bursting with it. "Very well, my queen, I shall put our plan into motion. It shall be done as you say."

"It has already begun, Galion. It was fated. Unavoidable from the moment Thranduil stepped upon this dark path."

XXX

Reluctantly, Feia pulled in on her reins as she noticed that once again she had urged Cricket to the head of their party. She simply could not seem to refrain from pressing the mare for speed! And as many times as she had needed to force herself to ease up on Cricket in order to spare the animal, she had also needed to force her hand from the hilt of Legolas's elven blade. She had retained possession of the knife after her vigil by the pool and none of the companions had ventured to comment when she had strapped the weapon to her saddle. Her fingers sought it constantly.

And Feia was not the only one who was behaving as though time had become an enemy – she was not the only one burdened by concern for Legolas! The elves took turns dropping from their saddles to scout, and each time that it was Haldir's turn, Gimli would ride Hithui stirrup to stirrup with Cricket. Though he was not particularly comfortable on the back of a horse, the urgency had infected him so that his reticence was forgotten. Elessar made no attempt to curb either the woman or the dwarf, which was an indication that he also was feeling the need for haste.

In truth, the company made excellent time. They had ridden through the pre-dawn and into the afternoon and they would make the high passes swiftly if they were not forced to avoid parties of orc. Oddly, though signs remained of multiple large parties on the move, they encountered no fresh tracks and were not required to alter their course. Elessar seemed to find this worrisome and the elves were inclined to agree, though Feia was unsure why.

Somewhere near mid afternoon, Elrohir rode up and offered Feia way-bread and some cheese, for they had taken the time for only a cold breakfast. But Feia, as she leaned across her saddle to accept the offering, brushed her hand against Legolas's knife and froze. Reining in Cricket abruptly so that Elrohir was forced to dance his mount in a circle, Feia seized the weapon with both hands and tried a calming breath. Something was badly wrong.

It took long moments for Feia to slow her speeding heart and find her center, and by that time all of the companions had gathered around her in concern. Even Elladan, who had been scouting, had made his way back to their party and now waited in silence for Feia to speak – for Ellesar had told them succinctly as they prepared to depart camp earlier, of the lady's use of the blade as a traveling focus and her assertion that Legolas yet lived.

Confusion, pain and grief, floated in a feverish haze. There was motion – the gait of a horse, accompanied by attendant waves of searing agony. But there also was a steadfast determination to go on, with only the barest memory of why or to what end. There was a terrible thirst, but the strength only to hold on and keep going; none left to raise a water skin to parched lips. _I must go on! Let there be an end! _

Someone was moaning. Someone was shaking her and shaking her! "Nin mettai túlna vedui!" _Let there be an end!_ And then there was a sharp pain in her cheek. Feia was half out of her saddle, still grasping Legolas's knife in a white-knuckled grip. Elessar supported her from Roheryn's back at her side. He had slapped her!

Feia allowed the King to ease her back upright into her saddle. It was she who had been moaning. She had been hysterical! "Thank you," Feia muttered, but she continued to stare at the elven blade until with harsh swiftness, realization came with panic on its wings. She swallowed it, barely, and gasped, "Light! Oh, Light! He is not going to make it!"

With that she reined Cricket about, and not waiting for the others to follow, set off at a dead run eastward. Elessar called after her, but she would not be deterred, for she could feel him now; she could point to him, and he was much, much too far away!

Shortly Roheryn's bulk edged in front of her and forced Cricket to a cantor and then a trot. "What in the name of Elbereth are you doing?!" cried the king.

"He is this way and he is not going to last, I tell you!" she shouted and then she took a deep shaky breath, pointed and said more calmly, "He is _this_ way."

The others had caught up and were looking from one to the other of them with expressions ranging from curiosity, to consternation. At last, Elessar nodded briskly, "Elrohir will scout from horseback; we trot a mile, then cantor two," the elf wheeled away, and the king continued, "Haldir and Gimli sweep our left flank, Elladan our right, I'm rear guard. The lady leads."

On the companions raced, and if they had made speed before, now they fairly flew. Feia felt a surge of fierce elation at having a direction at last, but it did not endure, for time was still her enemy. It seemed she rode upon the sands of an hourglass and Cricket scattered precious minutes with her hooves, minutes sliding away behind her never to be recaptured. Would there be enough?

Haldir rode Hithui at the lady's flank for a count of three strides, and then ranged out for a time and back again for another three, scanning the earth, the sky and the horizon with his keen senses. At his back Gimli muttered to himself, arguing that they should not be haring off after a mad vision, but then urging greater speed. Every so often, he would pause in his debate with himself to entreat in his gravelly voice, "Hold on, Laddie, just hold on!"

It was clear to Haldir, and had been nearly from the first, that the lady possessed some unfathomable connection with Legolas, enough that her urgency to reach the imperiled elf was as genuine as his own. Perhaps more raw, he amended as he glimpsed the unguarded dread warring with yearning hope in Feia's countenance, plainly written for any to see.

The confused and powerful jumble that was Feia's emotions brought starkly to Haldir's mind the feelings he had experienced when the mithril ring with its blue gem had come to him. It seemed a lifetime ago, now, but he could feel them still. Reverently he pressed his hand to his heart, where the ring hung suspended on a chord beneath his tunic. The elf looked sharply at Feia again. Yes! It was the same! They had not yet met, but Feia and Legolas belonged to one another, just as he belonged to the lady he had sworn that he would find.

But Feia, it seemed, could now point with confidence in the direction her heart lay. Haldir could only sense that his lady was far away indeed. Oddly, there had been a change some hours ago. What had been an anxious knot of restlessness within him had melted into a serenely pulsing glow of certainty that echoed his heart's beat. "Soon, soon, soon," it pulsed, "trust, trust, trust."

And as Hithui plunged on, as Gimli muttered, as Feia strove, Haldir simply trusted that all would be resolved as it should.

As the afternoon wore away and the sun edged lower at their backs, the companions climbed the gentle slope of a rolling hill and paused, for Elrohir stood his horse upon its crest, peering intently ahead and slightly to the north. Following the direction of his gaze, Haldir saw swell upon swell of earth covered by tall grass and sparse tree stands. At a distance barely viewable to a human eye he saw a horse making its oddly meandering way down a slope with its burden listing precariously to one side.

Elessar had swiftly fitted glass lenses into a cone of rolled leather, which he held briefly to his eye, and then lowered again, passing the device to Haldir. Haldir peered through the glass for what Feia and Gimli experienced as an interminable time, before he said, "The horse is silver-gray. Ah, yes! I can see the markings upon him. It is Arod. The rider is dressed in elven fashion and hooded, but alas! He is fallen from the steed's back. The grass is tall; I cannot see him. Arod stands guard for him. Leaving aside the surety of the lady, that is enough to name him, to my mind."

Feia made as though to kick Cricket into motion at once in the direction of the fallen elf, but Elladan restrained her with a hand on her arm and put out his other hand to receive the glass from Haldir. He trained the lens to a point further to the east and north, and reported briskly, "There is a full company of orc which have only now crested yonder hill. They travel at speed following Arod's trail."

"How close?!" Elessar barked.

Elladan passed the viewing device back to the king and smiled grimly, "It is a race."

"Noro lim!" cried Elessar, and Roheryn flowed from a standstill to a gallop seemingly in one stride. The others were already with him. Feia crouched low over Cricket's back as the high grasses parted before her like a green-gold sea. Clinging to the pommel of her saddle with one hand, she freed her bow from where it was tied to her saddlebags, and she saw that Elessar and the elves had their bows at hand as well. Gimli clung to Haldir's belt crying out in Dwarvish what could only be a battle cry.

It seemed both an eternity and a heartbeat only before Cricket flew past the horse, Arod, who stood knee-high in the grass dancing and whickering anxiously. She caught no glimpse of the elf whose peril had called to her across miles and time. Instead, she and the companions surged up the hill in order to gain the high ground on the orc who must now be climbing the other side.

There are causes worth dying for, there are dictators whose greed and corruption must be striven against, but soldiers are usually just soldiers; as capable of choosing good as they are of choosing evil. Feia had had some time now to consider the matter, and she had decided that orc were not now and had never been just soldiers. They were an abomination. To kill them all and leave none alive would be justice, and in a way, it would be mercy.

Orc were killing machines, cruelly broken and twisted by design in order to accomplish that end. Without the Enemy to guide them and with no trust between them, they wandered about committing random violence; against one another if no other prey presented itself. But these! These orc were following orders. Someone was powerful enough to cow them into subservience again, someone who wanted Legolas dead.

Oh, yes! These orc would die!

The companions reached the crest and fanned out along it. They were upwind of the orc; who were concentrating on their footing and on keeping the hated sun from their view as they ran full tilt up the slope. Before a single snout was raised, five arrows had flown to their marks and five more were following. The companions must have been an impressive sight, however small their party: three elves, a man, a woman, and a snarling dwarf astride battle trained steeds with enough steel between them for a party three times their size, outlined by the setting sun.

It took only a matter of minutes to rout the enemy. The only complaint was from Gimli, who had only been able to sink his axe into a trifling half dozen or so orc, for the majority of the fight was from horseback and at bow range. The elves moved by accord in three directions to kill any stragglers and scout for more parties approaching; but the king, the lady, and the dwarf wasted no more time on orc.

Legolas lay face down in the grass, not stirring, while Arod nosed the wide hood that concealed his face, chuffing in concern. Elessar reached him first, by a hair, and spoke softly to the horse in elvish until the animal ambled a few steps away to silently observe them.

The king gently rolled the elf onto his back as Gimli knelt at his prone friend's other side and Feia thumped to her knees beside his head. The hood of the short robe that Legolas wore in place of a tunic fell away and Feia made a purely feminine sound of dismay at the sight of his face. Swollen and blood-smeared, with bruises of every hideous shade, the ruined face bore testament that the elf had not simply been injured; he had endured days of suffering. Legolas's hand, which had been tucked inside the robe at his waist, fell to his side slick with blood. The elf's parched and cracked lips parted on a shallow gasp and his eyes fluttered open and then closed again.

"Help me remove his robe, Gimli." Elessar bade the dwarf, and they eased the soft fabric away from their friend, revealing the full extent of Legolas's ordeal.

At sight of the deep ugly bruising and the multitude of crisscrossed welts, Gimli cried, "Who has done this thing?!" At which the king and the lady shared a brief and grief filled glance, for all too strongly had their dreams hinted whom the perpetrator of this terrible deed might be.

Elessar zeroed in immediately on the most grievous of Legolas's hurts, for the bandage that had been tied over the knife wound in his side was dark and heavy with blood. With a sharp knife the king cut away the useless binding. His practiced eye assessed the wound quickly and he had to close his eyes for a moment to shut out the sight. With a pad of cloth from his healer's satchel, Elessar pressed the wound to staunch the flow of Legolas's life slowly seeping from it – already knowing it was useless. A shuddering tremor ripped through the suffering elf, who let out a feeble moan, but showed no further sign of awareness.

"Hang on, Laddie!" Gimli said without hope that it should be so, for he was too much a veteran of war not to recognize what the king had already seen. The dwarf clutched his friend's bloody hand to his heart with both of his, and rocked back upon his heels. Tears leaked openly down the dwarf's craggy face.

"You cannot help him." Feia's voice was inaudible, but it mattered not, for it was not a question. With purpose, she stood. There was only one person who could save her concinnate, but it would take a bit of magic and a fair amount of risk.

"I go to fetch a healer who can save Legolas." Now her voice was as steady and calm as if she had said she would go and fetch a bucket of water.

"We are too late, lass. Even with a healer more skilled than Aragorn, of which there are few! – if Lord Elrond himself were here with us, it is still too late!" The dwarf took a shattered breath, "We've lost him, Lassie! I'm sorry."

"If you are prepared to believe that there is no hope, then grieve." Feia squeezed her eyes shut and drew an unsteady breath, then, voice near to breaking she pleaded, "If you have faith in the strength of your friend, then aid him, I beg you! The sun is nearly down. It is fast growing cold. I will return with the aid which we require, I swear it!" And with that, the lady turned and walked three brisk strides away.

She held a gateway cube, a filigreed box like silver lace, cupped in her open palm, and she waved over it with her other hand. The cube began to glow from within, then to pulse and flare with light. Of a sudden, shafts of red and green, blue and gold leaped and flowed out to form an arc of interwoven color that stood solidly, though somehow gave the illusion of constant motion some two paces in front of the lady. It was filled with a mirror smooth panel of bright white light.

Feia turned to the king and the dwarf, "Keep this for me!" she called and tossed the cube aloft. Elessar deftly caught the object by the glow of the gate, examining it dubiously. Then he and Gimli watched in anxious hope as the lady stepped into the white panel and disappeared.

"Need I be concerned by that?" Elrohir asked from behind them, having just arrived over the crest of the hill. When they turned to him, he cast his eyes in the direction of the Gate.

"No," said the king absently, pocketing the cube, "No, I do not think so. Come, Elrohir, help us move Legolas to the copse of trees, thither."

XXX

Meghailin was sleeping. It was the first true rest she had enjoyed in many days, and it had come as a result of her new won serenity. On previous nights, she had gone to her bed wearing her traveling clothes, only removing her boots for comfort. But tonight she had gone so far as to change into a sleeping gown in order to properly savor a night of restful slumber.

From a lovely soothing dream in which she sat hand in hand with a faceless elf beside a moonlit pool, Meghailin awoke with a start. Peering around her room, illuminated only dimly by the embers of her dying fire, she tried to ascertain what had disturbed her, but saw nothing amiss. Lying back upon her pillows, Meg listened hard for any sound, and when none came, she relaxed; attempting to recapture her happy dream.

It was only a few minutes later, just long enough for Meg to have nearly found sleep again, that the door to her room slammed open so hard that it banged against the wall and rebounded nearly closed. Meg was already standing in a defensive crouch with her sword bared before she recognized the flying object that was assaulting her as Feia.

"Navedui," _at last_ "and about time!" Meg snapped. Sheathing her weapon with perhaps more force than was needed, she leaned down for her clothes.

"There is no time for that!" Feia cried, snatching Meg's clothing from her and tucking the folded garments under her arm. Stooping swiftly, she also grabbed Meg's boots. "We have to go now; quickly! Legolas is dying!"

Meg looked at Feia in alarm, not so much because of her words, but because of her sister's voice. Since Alderaan had been destroyed, Feia had systematically constructed level upon level of shields to protect her heart, but now she sounded as though those shields had all shattered and the broken shards were shredding her. Meg wordlessly hauled her satchel over her shoulder and nodded for her friend to lead.

In no time Feia was running full out down the deserted corridors of the keep. Meg ran barefoot on the cold stone tiles in her wake, which was perfectly fine with her; if one must run, better to run barefoot if the terrain permitted. Meg was usually a much faster runner than Feia, but tonight you could hardly slide a hair through the difference between them. And the while Feia was keeping up a commentary that held the edge of panic.

"I opened the gate in the transfer portal alcove off the secret annex of the library. I thought that it would be the safest place. How could I not have considered how far it is from your rooms? Precious minutes! I could have opened it at your door. I am a fool! I gave them hope! What if I am wrong? What if we cannot save him? I think I might die! Oh, Light! I might at that, if it does not work. Run, Meg!"

Feia slammed open the library doors to reveal the deserted interior and charged across the grand room to a curtained alcove disguised as a garderobe where she ran straight through the illusory back wall with Meg still on her heels. Inside the secret annex, accessible through the shielded wall only by those attuned to it by Kelson himself, stood the gate to Meg's future.

Feia was already through, but Meghailin stopped and took one deep breath, "Námarië," she whispered. _Farewell._ Then she stepped through the shimmering light of the gate into tall moonlit grasses on the slopes of a low hill, and sighed, "Utúlien." _I am come._

"Leave your pack." Feia said distractedly poised on her toes. Meg dropped the satchel next to her clothes and boots in the grass and taking Feia's hand, she squeezed it. Then, hand in hand, they ran under the bright moon toward the shadowed trees where the glow of firelight beckoned.

Chapter 8:

**Magic & Risk **

The companions had covered Legolas with blankets and built a fire quickly to warm him. Elessar crushed dried athelas flowers into a pan of water over the flames and the scent heartened the three who watched over the stricken elf, even as it eased Legolas's shallow breathing.

Even so, the elf had begun to shiver, and to mutter feverishly. "Imladris…" he moaned. "Edheloth nin…nótimë!" _My people…I must! _

Elessar took one of Legolas's hands and leaned close to his ear saying, "Legolas, lhawuva, mellon nin?" _Can you hear me, my friend? _

The elf went still, and after a pause, he gasped, "Im lhaw." _I hear._

Opening his eyes, Legolas forced himself to focus on Elessar's face. "Le abdollen," _You are late,_ he said and attempted a smile. But they both knew that there was no humor in it, for it was bitterest truth. Then the elf closed his eyes on a grimace, gripping the king's hand against a wave of agony.

"You have to hold on a little longer, Legolas. Can you?" Elessar said, praying that he was not needlessly drawing out his friend's torment.

Legolas looked into the king's eyes for a long while. What he read there, Elessar could not guess, but at length the elven prince whispered, "Maruvan." _I will abide._ Then his eyes slowly closed again.

Elessar sat back with a weary sigh and looked toward the hill where the shining gate stood. He was just in time to see an apparition appear through the trees, all shining white with a golden aura about her head. But as the fanar approached the firelight she resolved into a living elf maiden dressed in a long white sleeping shift. What he had perceived as an aura was an untamed mane of curls. Feia ran beside her.

"Your sister, the Second of Alderaan?" the king asked his liege lady.

"Introductions later sire, if you do not mind," Feia said with a quick smile that disappeared as swiftly. Her eyes were fixed on Legolas as if she could not tear them away. "Have you the gate cube?" she asked. Elessar pressed the object into her hand and observed as she waved her palm over it. The silver metal went black and the lady said, "The gate is closed and this cannot be used again." Feia dropped it into her pouch.

The elven apparition was now kneeling at Legolas's side with a hand placed over his heart and the other on the crown of his head. Her eyes were closed and a soft bluish glow enveloped her that was now more than just the moonlight or the firelight in her golden tresses. Gimli and Elrohir stood silently observing from the other side of the fire. Gimli did not appear to be breathing at all.

At last, the lady opened her eyes, turned to Feia and said sympathetically, "You know the limits of what I can do. You must know that this elf is nearly spent; he has not the strength to withstand healing. If I attempt it, he will only die the sooner."

Gimli huffed a breath at last and closed his eyes. Elrohir bowed his head pressing a hand to his heart. The king sighed again and rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. Disappointment and grief rolled off of them all in waves and Feia found her courage flagging, but she answered anyway, "Not if you send it through me."

The elf maiden gasped. "Feia, you know that does not work with any save closest family and concinnati, and not always then!" Meg paused, cocking her head slightly at her sister, and added, "Oh...!"

Meg continued softly, "It could still drain you both!" Then more urgently, "It could kill you both! Once I begin it, it will run its course and I will not be able to stop it. Be sure of this, sister."

"I brought you for this," Feia said, kneeling beside Meg. She tore her gaze from Legolas and pressed her cheek to her sisters, "Even a chance is worth dying for, Meggie. You would do the same."

"I would." Meg sat back from Feia, reaching up to frame her sister's face with her long fingers.

"Are you saying that there is a possibility that you can save Legolas, but it could cost your life?" Elessar asked Feia, then without pausing for a reply he said, "I forbid it!"

Feia shifted to look behind her at the king, "My liege," she began, and at this address, Meg's eyes grew round. "I excluded from my oath to you that which would harm my soul. Could my soul ever rest knowing that I might have saved him had I only tried? You have no authority in this."

"I seem to have precious little authority with you at all!" Elessar snapped, rising. "Proceed then, if you will. Every moment extends his torment. Let it end, one way or another!" and he moved to pace like a restless shadow at the edge of the firelight.

"His Majesty is correct, we must not delay," Feia said, her eyes sliding back to Legolas's face as if drawn by a magnet.

"Find your center, my sister," Meghailin instructed. "Kneel here as I did with a hand on his crown and the other over his heart." Feia did so, quickly. "I will kneel behind you. When I summon the energy, I will send it through your heart. From there it will flow out through your hands. If your lifesongs harmonize closely enough, Prince Legolas should be able to take the strength which he needs from you." Meg sighed and shook her head, "Even if this works, Feia, you will be bone deep exhausted when it is done."

At first, Feia felt nothing but the warmth of Meg's presence at her back. Even through her closed eyes, however, she could see the light growing around them. Then there was tingling pressure behind her heart that finally broke through to fill her chest with such power that she gasped. It filled her and filled her until she feared she might fly apart; feeling at once cool, like water flooding from a storm-swollen stream and hot, like waves radiating from a forest fire. It was beautiful – and terrifying!

Suddenly Feia's palms grew unnaturally warm, and that seemed to draw the wild energy through her arms to her hands. It was then that she was startled into opening her eyes by the pressure of a strong hand at the back of her neck yanking her firmly downward.

The moment she opened them, her eyes were captured by eyes a blue quite unlike any eyes she had seen before. They were not the blue of the cloudless sky, or of summer's wildflowers, or the shallows of the sea. These eyes were deep wells of azure like the last glow of twilight, and they caught and held her as tightly as Legolas's hand. He had pulled her so close that their noses were nearly touching and there was fierceness in his gaze that caused her breath to catch; though she was not afraid – or rather not precisely afraid.

For what seemed an eternity they balanced this way, with the power flowing to her hands, but no farther. Feia floated in the depths of his eyes, and Legolas seemed to be plundering hers. At last she begged him, "hiruvalyë annaen ya chebin a cuio!" _Take the gift that I keep for you and live! _

Legolas's hand dropped; his eyes closed. Abruptly a flood of energy raged through them both so that they each gasped great lungfuls of air in unison. It was as if they had been underwater for some time and had broken the surface together, breathing in life.

Legolas arched under her hands, every muscle straining, but Feia did not see, for she felt she had been tugged down by an undertow which had her tumbling end over end until she had lost up and down or any sense of where or when, and even her name at last was snatched from her.

XXX

Haldir came to the place where he had left the others, drawn by a bright glowing arch of light. He approached with caution, curious, but as he neared the thing it simply vanished leaving only an afterimage behind his eyes.

On the ground a satchel rested which belonged to none of his companions, but which could not possibly be mistaken for orc gear. There was a bow of elven make, but short, and a quiver of arrows fletched in the same manner as Lady Feia's. There was a short sword and a case that Haldir guessed might contain a musical instrument of some kind. Beside it was a pile of folded clothing and a pair of soft green boots to fit a child or a lady. Very curious!

Haldir had already noted the glowing firelight from the camp his companions had made, and he led Hithui thence through the tall grasses in silence. He thought he was prepared for anything, but he found that he was wrong.

As he broke through the trees, Haldir froze. His consciousness dimly registered Elessar stalking the perimeter of the camp, and Gimli crouched opposite the fire with Elrohir standing at his side. He noted that Elladan was still absent, having not yet returned from his scouting. But the tableau that arrested him, that nearly stopped his heart, was the vision of a Vala, kneeling at Lady Feia's back where she hovered beside Legolas's prone body.

The angelic lady held her arms outstretched at her sides with her palms cupped toward the sky, her face was tilted into the moonlight and her eyes were closed. Haldir's lips parted on a silent breath. Then the light appeared. The moon was full and bright in the sky and the fire flared hot, but both paled beside the glow emanating around, or perhaps from, this lovely being.

The vision raised her arms slowly over her head and the light seemed to coalesce into a tight ball of liquid fire between her pale hands. There was little wind, but around the lady was a vortex of power that lifted her bright tresses to wave and dance and whip around her like wildfire. Everything but the lady and the light passed into darkness to Haldir's entranced eyes. _Elbereth,_ he silently prayed.

Then the lady lowered her hands slowly in front of her, palms pressing outward, guiding the molten ball of power toward Lady Feia's back. Haldir's vision expanded once more and he could see the woman stiffen her spine, her eyes opening wide before closing again. She shuddered once and the bright ball seemed to disappear inside her, leaving only a soft glowing aura which enveloped her.

The Vala sat back on her heels then, catching herself unsteadily with an outstretched hand as the light around her dimmed to normal. She looked tired. She looked worried. She looked like an elf; a living, breathing, real elf! Sensation returned to Haldir and he realized he was panting as if he had run for a night and a day. He still could not tear his eyes from the lady and there was a buzzing in his ears.

Moonlight still played in the lady's unbound hair, and firelight outlined her through what appeared to be a white sleeping gown, in a way that seemed designed to capture his imagination. A long chain glittered about her neck, disappearing into the shift where the ties had fallen open to reveal an expanse of pale skin. Her eyes were locked on Feia and Legolas and she was oblivious to all else, thankfully, for Haldir knew he wore his reaction to her as blatantly as it was possible for an elf to reveal.

Just then, Feia's head jerked forward and captured his attention. She bent with her face close to Legolas's, caught there by his hand at the nape of her neck. That is when Haldir saw Legolas clearly for the first time and his stomach clenched at the sight. The Mirkwood elf lay naked to his waist; his face was a ruin of blood and bruises, his torso and arms crisscrossed by countless angry welts and deep bruising. A bloody bandage at the elf's side drew Haldir's eye and he sensed the wrongness there. Haldir understood instantly that his friend was dying.

Haldir's feet, which had been rooted, moved in an involuntary step forward. But he froze again, for just then Feia said clearly, "hiruvalyë annaen ya chebin a cuio!" Haldir shook his head to clear it. The lady did not understand elvish, but now for the third time he had heard her speak it.

Suddenly Feia and Legolas both gasped loud and deeply as if they breathed as one. Legolas stiffened and his body arched up off the ground. The lady looked as though she had been kicked hard in the stomach and she pitched forward over the wounded elf. The pair was surrounded in the glow that had spread and brightened around them.

Legolas continued to tense, tossing as if he were dreaming of a fight. Oddly, however, this barely disturbed Feia who rested upon his shoulder. His arm had curled around her almost protectively. And though she seemed to have been struck senseless, her hand was cupped tenderly over his heart.

Vaguely Haldir was aware that Elessar had stopped his pacing and now stood behind Haldir's lady staring avidly at the two on the ground. Gimli had risen, stiff and anxious while Elrohir appeared intently curious.

Elessar stood behind Haldir's lady…behind Haldir's lady…Haldir's lady…

Any semblance of composure Haldir still maintained evaporated as he turned his gaze again upon the lovely elf maiden kneeling anxiously in the firelight. She was hugging herself in the chill autumn night, pulling the fabric of her shift tight and revealing more of her comely flesh, but also revealing at the termination of the chain about her neck a heavy golden ring with a sparkling green stone.

Some sort of sound came from the back of his throat that was raw and primal. Haldir realized he had taken another step and his hand was outstretched. Everything male in him was screaming, "Mine, mine, mine!!!" He had to get a hold of himself! Deliberately he started breathing more deeply and he ripped his gaze away from the lady.

Instead, he returned his attention to the drama coming to its conclusion around the Prince of the Woodland Realm and the Princess of Alderaan. They still lay entwined, though Legolas had shifted so that now they were face to face with the elf's arm tight around the lady's back. Feia was pale and totally still in the glow around them which was slowly dimming. Legolas was breathing hard, but from exertion now, not pain, and the awful wounds were gone.

XXX

She had been tossed about on the surging tides of power for so long, that the sudden quiet was startling. At first she did not know what to do. She floundered, lost in utter stillness; finding no direction – no bearing. But then she heard the voice, gravelly with fatigue, "Yaná e esse leië?" At the sound, she relaxed immediately, bobbing easily to the surface of awareness like a cork.

She opened her eyes and found herself gazing at the most wonderful face. An elf's face – a beautiful face. "A! Calad!" she breathed. _Oh! Light!_

The lovely face split into a soft grin and something fluttered in her stomach. A fine boned, but masculine hand reached toward her, and the back of the fingers ever so softly brushed her cheek. "Calad sílanna nin!" _Light help me!_ She added, shivering.

"Yaná e esse leië?" the voice said again. _What is your name?_ The voice was coming from the lovely face and it was quite fascinating watching the soft smile form the words.

She had once had a name. Of this she was sure, so it was likely that she still did have one.

"Feia?" said another voice sounding concerned. That was Meg. Meg was concerned. Meg should not be concerned. Oh, yes, Feia! That was the name she needed to tell the lovely face. Legolas's face. Legolas with the lovely elven face.

Smiling triumphantly, she said, "Feia."

Legolas smiled again. It was really such a marvelous smile. "Feia," he repeated, and then he went to sleep, the gentle fingers slipping to rest upon her neck. Legolas was sleeping. He was asleep with his lovely uninjured face and that meant he was not going to die!

"Meggie! Nályë sí?" Feia asked. _Are you here? _

"Náim sí" Meg answered. _I am here_

"Legolas ná lôrren sí únalme vani," Feia said happily. _Legolas is sleeping here and is not departing. _

"Henná ve hulyë," Meg answered. _It is as you say._ Then she asked, "Nályë orepant edhellen ná lammen?" _Are you aware that we are speaking elvish? _

"Náun edhellenui!" _I do not know elvish!_ Feia insisted, and then truly heard what she had said and added in surprise, "Im pedo edhellen!" _I speak elvish!_

Feia was so tired, it was getting hard to think or speak at all, but the explanation came to her, and so she carefully said in Westron, "It was in his eyes!" And with that she also slept.

Chapter 9:

**A Star Shines **

Meghailin bent with a bemused and gentle smile to pull the blanket up over her charges. They looked like lovers already.

The dwarf approached Meghailin with something akin to reverent awe, but he must have felt the same way as she when he glanced down at Legolas and Feia in each other's arms, for he appeared most flustered and he said, "My lady, do you think we aught to…?" and he put his hands out together in front of him and mimed pulling them apart. His face had gone crimson.

"Oh no, Master Dwarf, I think they are just fine as they are." She responded still smiling warmly.

"Hm, Hwm...of course. As you say, of course," the dwarf stammered and then he collected himself and bowing deeply said, "Great lady, Gimli son of Gloin stands forever in your debt. There is naught that you could ask which I would not undertake for you, for you have saved the life of one dear to me."

Meg returned Gimli's bow with a curtsy. Somewhere she recalled hearing that dwarves do not make their courtesies idly when they bother with them at all, nor do they lightly offer their service. "Gimli son of Gloin, I am honored by your words," she said, but added, "Your friend is remarkably strong and my friend is brave, nothing I could have done would have helped Prince Legolas else." Then she smiled and said, "My sister is indisposed and cannot make a proper introduction. I am Meghailin Celduinsén McKiernan of Alderaan."

"My Lady Meghailin," said the one whom Feia had named 'my liege,' "I am Elessar of Gondor. Be welcome to Middle Earth," and the king graciously kissed her hand. "You have earned any reward you could name this day."

With another curtsy, Meg answered, "Your Majesty, permission to remain will be entirely sufficient, but I thank you."

"And I am Elrohir son of Elrond of Imladris, my lady," said the dark haired elf. "You have prevented much grief for our people and these, our friends. The welcome of my father's house shall ever be yours."

"I count that a great honor, Lord Elrohir," Meg responded, dipping once more in a curtsy to the elven lord.

All in all, Meg was proud of how courtly she was managing to be, considering she was standing about in the chilly night dropping curtsies in a sleeping gown.

But then a voice said, soft and deep behind her, "My lady," and somehow it managed to sound like a caress; as if the possessive 'my' was meant quite literally. She shivered in an involuntary response and felt her cheeks grow hot. Meg found herself oddly nervous to match a face with that voice. She turned – but slowly taking a steadying breath.

There stood an elf, quite a lovely elf, looking at her with his moss-green eyes smoldering and she knew at once she had not mistaken his tone – not at all. Meg felt tiny, terribly exposed and very conscious of her attire. She thought fond thoughts of her new healer-green cloak, thick and heavy, and packed away in her satchel on the hillside about a thousand leagues away.

They seemed to stand there that way forever with Meg's flush deepening by the moment, but at last the elf reached for her hand. Meg gave it to him automatically realizing too late that it was surely a mistake. But really, what could she have done? Instead of brushing the back of her fingers with his lips as the king had done, however, this elf turned her palm toward him and kissed it quite warmly. Her lips parted but she had nothing to say and no air to say it, anyway.

Haldir retained her hand, holding it at his heart, and said, "Náim Haldir Lórienńa, iënin edhelriel Meghailin. Elen síla lúmerin' omentielvo_." I am Haldir of Lórien, my lady Meghailin. A star shines on the hour of our meeting. _

Meg opened her mouth to respond, though she was unable to think of a single appropriate thing to say. The fact that he appeared to lack any inclination toward relinquishing her hand was having a disconcerting effect on her ability to complete a rational thought. And then he quite deliberately pressed her fingertips firmly to his chest where they lay over his heart and she felt the unmistakable shape of a large heavy ring beneath the fabric of his tunic. She looked up at him sharply, questioning, but he only cast his eyes downward to the place where the golden ring lay just hidden at the termination of its chain. An involuntary gasp escaped her lips and the elf flashed her a knowing smile.

Meg was completely off balance, without a thought for what to do or say next, but she was saved from the awkward moment by the appearance through the trees of another elf on horseback.

This new arrival was clearly the twin of Elrohir, which automatically named him for her.

Elladan dismounted and strode purposefully to the fire. Noting the presence of Meg he acknowledged it with a quizzical tilt of his head. At the sight of Feia and Legolas he raised an eyebrow, but made no comment. Instead he reported briskly to the king and companions that he had circled north and west and discovered that a battalion's worth of orc stood between them and the high passes and that they were beginning to send sweeps in the direction of the companion's camp.

The king said, "How many and when, Elladan? Do we fight or flee?" as he said the last, he looked with concern at the sleeping pair on the ground.

"Both, I think, my friend," answered the elf, "for a company of some thirty of the creatures shall surely arrive here within the hour. If we can fight our way through that, we should be able to flee ahead of pursuit…perhaps back to the Limlight Glen camp. I suggest we try the gap of Rohan as our approach to my father's house."

"Agreed!" said Elessar. "We will defend the camp," and he gave orders to prepare.

XXX

Meghailin had had quite enough of running about barefoot in a shift. She was feeling cold in the deepening night, tired from the healing work and precariously unbalanced by the presence of the eloquent and overpowering Haldir of Lórien. Reaching down, she retrieved Feia's dagger from its sheath and strode through the trees toward where her belongings lay upon the hill.

Haldir appeared at her side almost at once.

"Where do you imagine you are going, my lord?" Meg asked, not quite snappishly.

"That is what I meant to inquire of you, my lady," he responded, frowning down at her.

"I suppose it occurred to me that if I am going to be fighting orc I might like to do it wearing something more…well, wearing something _more._ My clothing and my boots, not to mention my weapons are on yonder slope. That is where I am going," she gave him a cheeky grin and said, "Did you intend to assist me as I dress, my lord?" Meg regretted the comment almost before it was out of her mouth, and when the looming elf's eyes ignited she regretted it even more. Whatever was the matter with her?

"What I intend is to see you safely there and back to the camp, Lady Meghailin. Or better still, I will fetch your gear for you whilst you remain." The elf was actually stalking. There was no other word for the way in which he was moving at her side.

Meg turned on him with her legs splayed and her hands fisted at her waist; a pose that had sent everyone she had ever known, with very few exceptions, fleeing for cover. "We are halfway there already, my Lord Haldir, and I have not yet fallen into a hole. I believe I can manage this dangerous mission alone."

Quite suddenly, Haldir seized her shoulder with one hand and her wrist with the other, shoving her hard to the ground, where he sprawled nearly atop her, "What are you doing!" she hissed. "Get mmpf!" his hand clamped down over her mouth. Meg's eyes blazed furiously and she bucked under him, attempting to break free. Haldir narrowed his eyes and then moved his face close to her ear and breathed, "yrch scout." Immediately Meg ceased struggling and Haldir removed his hand from her mouth. The elf's hand upon her wrist circled around to the hilt of Feia's knife. Relieving her of it he made ready to throw the weapon at the appropriate moment.

As Haldir shifted over her, she was all too aware of the intimacy of their position. His long hair, which smelled very male and very nice, made a curtain on one side of her face and tickled her neck, but when Meg eased her head in the other direction she found her mouth quite close to his ear, and she was conscious of her breath coming a bit too rapidly against his warm skin.

Shortly, she could hear the rustling of the orc in the high grasses. It almost came as a surprise that she could hear the creature over the insistent thumping of her heart. With a typically elven economy of movement, Haldir surged upward, tossed the blade, and dropped back down to cover her again. She heard no sound from the scout and she did not expect to, for Feia kept her weapons in good order and Haldir was, after all, an elf.

"There may be others," he mouthed, looking down at her and she nodded silently. He was supporting himself above her on his arms and peering through the concealing grass, listening intently. Haldir appeared to be all business. She on the other hand was feeling very much like a female with a large and lovely male laying half on top of her, and she was afraid she was trembling. Perhaps he would perceive her shaking as fear; not that she found that preferable, exactly.

After Haldir had kept his vigil for some time and he felt certain that there was no immediate threat, he pushed himself off from his lady feeling suddenly bereft. Quickly He unclasped his cloak, covering her with it even before she had reached her feet, pulling the hood up over her shining hair. Then he took her shoulder's unnecessarily to steady her. She did not need steadying, but Haldir needed to touch her and found it impossible to stop himself. Perhaps it was he who needed steadying, for he could hardly contend with the memory of her breath against his skin and the delicious warmth of her body. Had she actually trembled?

Haldir was at a loss. How could he make the lady his when they already belonged to one another, while at the same time fighting a veritable war? If he wasn't careful, he would get them both killed and he must protect this maiden who carried his ring and his heart at any cost.

"My lady," he said in a voice he barely recognized as his own, "let us go quickly against the event that more orc arrive to trouble us." He gave a small start as he realized he was rubbing her shoulders through the cloak with his thumbs, and he dropped his hands.

Meg was surrounded in the scent of him and the warmth of him, captured in his cloak. And Haldir's voice seemed to vibrate through her as if they were two tuning forks pitched to match. The combination seemed to be affecting her ability to stand up straight, so she very much missed his hands when he suddenly released her.

Eventually, Haldir's actual words registered in her numbed mind and she answered him, "If you will retrieve my sister's blade, my lord, I will complete my errand so that we may return to the others."

Meg quickly reached her belongings and pulled on stockings, a pair of soft blue leggings and then her dark green leather boots. It was a feat made more challenging by the sea of fabric that was Haldir's cloak, but safer. She was fully aware that her shift was a beacon under the moon and her bright hair little better. She did not relish the idea of being shot by an orcish bolt.

Slipping her arms out of the sleeves of her shift, she crouched down in the grass and dropped the cloak in order to pull on an indigo tunic with laces, followed by a green overdress, slit high on the leg for freedom of movement. She armed herself then, with her short sword and knife and pulled a blue leather tie from the small pouch on her sword belt to pull back her hair. For lack of a better place to carry it, or so she told herself, she wrapped Haldir's cloak about her once more.

Lastly she checked that the emerald ring was tucked safely into her bodice. Could Haldir have been trying to show her that he was the one who had called to her in his need and sent to her this ring? Was it her father's sarnnenmír ring that she had felt tucked under Haldir's clothing over his heart?

_Her_ heart said, "Yes!" But how could she be sure? Could she brazenly ask, "Excuse me, my Lord Haldir, but have you by some chance recently lost an emerald ring and gained a mithril ring in its place whilst in a mysterious and miraculous dream?" What would she follow such a question with, she wondered? Perhaps, "Splendid! So, when shall we wed?" Suddenly she realized that the great professor Tolkien had been limited in one aspect of Middle Earth lore, for she had no idea how such things were accomplished here.

Shaking herself, for it came to her that she had been standing there clutching the ring and ruminating for rather longer than was wise, Meg stooped to collect her satchel and found it gone. Haldir stood silent, watching her avidly, with her belongings slung over his shoulder. He made no comment, for which she was grateful; he only passed her Feia's knife and motioned for her to lead the way back to camp.


	3. Summerland Chapters 10 to 15

**Naeore Laerien** (Summerland of the Heart)

Chapter 10:

**Errors of Misplaced Chivalry **

The camp was as prepared as the other companions could make it. The gear was stowed on the horses, which had been placed together on one side of the fire; all except Arod and Cricket who guarded their masters.

Elessar claimed Meg's attention, introducing her to a horse named Hasufel and asking if she rode with a blanket alone as the elves of Middle Earth preferred, or if she would like the saddle. Apparently the horse had been brought as a spare mount for he was a splendid animal, but he had been carrying the extra baggage. Now his burdens were dispersed amongst the other horses; prepared to go quickly at need.

Meg chose to keep the tack Hasufel carried, though she preferred to ride without. It would be a shame to leave the well-made saddle behind, and time was pressing on. Haldir strapped her satchel to the high cantle and then, glancing at her appraisingly, significantly shortened the stirrup leathers. He had spoken not a word to her all the way back to camp, but it had been a comfortable sort of elvish silence, mostly. Meg was reluctant to admit it, even to herself, but there was something rather nice about the quiet elf seeing to her things for her.

Tearing herself away from the sight, Meghailin strode to where Feia and Legolas lay in deepest slumber. Gimli was there also, looking concerned. "Even with the horses to protect them, I don't much like that they will just be lying here in the middle of a battle."

"They needn't be," Meg answered. "They desperately need rest, but we can put off for a little time when they will get it – not indefinitely, of course; but perhaps long enough."

Kneeling smoothly near her sister and her sister's elven prince, Meg placed a hand on either forehead. Gimli raised a bushy brow and hunkered down to watch. There was not much to see, really. A soft blue glow surrounded her hands for a moment as she worked the Deryni fatigue banishing spell that she had learnt from Kelson's blood brother, the gifted healer Dhugal MacArdry McLain.

The elf's eyes opened instantly blinking once at sight of the armful of woman he had somehow managed to acquire. Feia woke more slowly, but as the blue glow vanished the bright flame of a deep blush replaced it. "Oh, my!" was all that Feia could manage to say as she scrambled away, dislodging the blanket from the half naked Legolas. The sight discomposed Feia further and she stared resolutely at the ground.

Meg had to bite back a laugh. Typically, Feia was less flusterable than this. Meg wondered how long this strange symptom would last in her lovesick patient. "All right, you two, pay attention!" she said briskly to cover the giggle threatening her composure.

"You should both be asleep," Meg continued, "but you are not because in a few minutes we will be entertaining a party of orc, and after that we shall apparently ride at speed in the middle of the night for somewhere called the Limlight Glen Camp. I used a fatigue banishing spell on you both, and you will feel perfectly fit until the exact moment when you do not, at which point you will feel like you have just galloped into a stone wall. I hope that moment will correspond closely with the moment we reach our destination, but I really do not know."

Meg whipped Feia's knife out of the back of her belt and said, "I borrowed this. Thank you." Then she stood and walked quickly away to mask the fact that she was shaking with mirth. A fact which Feia did note, and did not appreciate, though she was close to laughing herself; or perhaps crying, or possibly screaming hysterically, she was unsure.

Feia's voice was tight when she said, "Please, excuse me," to the ground between Gimli and Legolas and hastily retreated, leading Cricket with her to the other side of the fire.

Legolas watched her go with both reluctance and relief. It had felt right and natural to hold her, the mysterious lady of his visions, but he knew naught of her. Naught save her name, at any rate. At least he had that now! And somehow he was alive because of her. And who was that cheeky elf maid? And what was a fatigue banishing spell?

He felt well, so it seemed to be working, whatever it was. Standing, Legolas flexed his muscles and was astonished to feel no residual pain at all. Pain had been a constant companion for these many days and it was a strange feeling, the lack of it. Gimli stood beside him grinning behind his bushy beard with a suspiciously moist twinkle in his eye, "You look fit as ever, Laddie! How do you feel?" the dwarf asked.

Clasping his friend's burly shoulder, he answered, "Well, Gimli! I do not suppose you have an extra shirt and perhaps a spare bow lying about, do you?"

Laughing now, the dwarf said, "I think we can do better than that, my lad!" and he led the way to where Legolas's weapons and gear had been stowed upon Arod. Legolas was pleased to see his Lórien bow, his cloak, and his other belongings had been recovered, for he had never thought to see any of his things again. Elrohir, observing that Legolas was up and moving, gladly supplied him with a spare shirt and tunic.

In moments, Legolas had his sword once more at his side and was strapping his quiver over his cloak. As his fingers slid over the repaired strap he shuddered with the memory of the moment it had been torn from him and of all that had followed after. But then he smiled, looking into the eyes of his loyal friend. Well did he know who was responsible for the fine repair work; and the dwarf had done it believing that the quiver would likely never be needed again. "Thank you, my friend," was all that he said, but much more passed between them as he clasped the dwarf's shoulder once more.

Legolas was sliding the knife that Queen Nenuiel had returned to him into the sheath upon his back when Elessar approached with Lady Feia. Silently, the lady handed him the knife's twin, and in his mind's eye flashed his vision of her, so beautiful like a lady of light and holding this weapon across her knees. He said, "Thank you, my lady," and was surprised at how shaky his voice sounded to his own ears.

Feia was also fully armed now, with a sword, her knife, and a bow. Legolas was reminded that in a very short while they would be called upon to fight. Frowning slightly he was considering how best to protect the ladies when Elessar spoke, placing his hands on the elf's shoulders and looking him in the eye, "It is very good to see you looking so well, my friend! Lady Meghailin says that you and our lady here are fit enough to participate in the little party we will be having shortly, is that so?"

"I am fit enough, Elessar," Legolas replied, "but could the lady not stay with the horses? If she is capable with that bow, she can cover us from there."

Legolas glanced at the lady and was bewildered to see that she held her arms crossed and was splitting a frown between the king and him. Elessar noticed as well, and smiled slightly, "I think you will find that Princess Serafé has very little patience for; what was it, your highness? Errors of misplaced chivalry?" Gimli barked a nervous laugh and Feia's eyes narrowed dangerously. Legolas was quite thoroughly taken aback.

"Hmm, yes," the king continued, "I suggest we all stay out of the lady's way, shall we?"

Rolling her eyes heavenward in a plea for patience, Feia said, "I should be so fortunate."

Where is the woman who blushed at the sight of me without my shirt? Legolas wondered. But there was little time in which to ponder the many mysteries that the lady presented, for Elladan whistled the signal to prepare. Feia had an arrow knocked in short order, not as fast as he, but fast, and she silently raised an eyebrow at him from behind her beaded braids while they took positions around the perimeter of the camp.

Now that they were actually doing something at which she felt proficient, Feia was much more confident. Stay with the horses indeed! If she could go back in time, there would be no stammering and blushing, oh no! If she had it to do over again, she would give this elf her sauciest smile and kiss him full on the mouth! Had she known he was going to behave so protectively, she would have done!

In her dreams, she would have.

But the fantasy was enough to take her halfway through a quiver of arrows with hardly a wasted shot. She was too busy to pay much attention to how the other companions were faring, but she had a suspicion that was not the case for her watchful elf; for she caught glimpses of Legolas, off to her right, keeping one eye on her. That would never do!

Feia would not simply move away from him, for the companions had spaced themselves out around the fire in a rough circle and she had her section to defend. An arrow sped across her view and took out an orc on her left. Very well, fine, she had not seen that one; but still! If it had attacked, she would have killed it…probably.

It was nearing time for blades, and Legolas had cut down the space between them considerably. "What happened to staying out of my way?" Feia muttered to herself, as she slung her bow on her back and unsheathed her blades. She should not have been surprised when the elf looked at her sharply. Elves and their hearing!

Soon enough, however, she was too busy flowing through the forms that had been drilled into her by Giles Durane, the best weapons master in the galaxy, to much care what Legolas saw or heard. Master Durane would have found little enough to complain about in her performance today. Almost without thought she kicked out, crushing the windpipe of one orc, allowing the momentum to carry her longer blade into the armpit of another. Then she whipped around yanking the blade free and used it to block a particularly nasty orc's blade while she put her dagger through its beady eye.

Killing orc was doing wonders for her temper and she was feeling a trifle better disposed toward Legolas and everyone in general. Especially when, a moment later, a half-dozen orc converged on her at once and the elf appeared at her back saying only, "Náim nefelyë." _I am behind you._

It was exhilarating to fight as a team with a warrior elf so much more skilled than herself. Orc were aggressive and sly, but not particularly inclined toward working in concert, so Feia and Legolas together made quick work of them. The last orc standing found itself simultaneously impaled in the stomach by Feia's sword and in the throat by one of the elven blades. "I think we killed it," Feia said laughing through her panting breaths, and she was rewarded with the flash of a heart-stopping grin.

Meanwhile, all around the camp the companions were finishing off their share of the orc party. Meghailin was hardly allowed near an orc, for she contended with not one protector, but two! Gimli, it appeared, was taking his gratitude very seriously, and Haldir seemed to be everywhere at once – always between her and danger. Although it was irritating to be thought incapable of defending herself, Meg had to admit she was more effective in the fight as a result. Dropping back behind her champions, she could use her dangerous aim to advantage.

Although the same master had drilled Feia and her, and she was competent with sword and knife, blades were not Meg's weapons of choice. Few enough there were on her home world that could have hit a mark on a moving target more accurately with a bow, however. The elves here might be another matter, but Meg managed to more than hold her own.

She took particular pleasure in putting an arrow through the eye of an orc threatening Haldir. The arrow flashed close enough to Haldir's head that he could feel the breeze of its passing, and it dropped the orc like a stone. Haldir turned around to look at her with his eyes wide. Meg was not sure if he admired her aim, or feared for his life. She only smiled mischievously, deliberately knocking another arrow. Haldir returned to the fray.

If a search was made for the people most efficient at orc killing, those here present would be amongst those first called, and so it was finished quickly enough.

Elladan and Elrohir disappeared through the trees in order to silence any stragglers and attend to the all-important scouting duty, while with a glance in her direction Haldir began retrieving arrows. Meg suspected that Haldir might have followed the sons of Elrond, but was reluctant to stray far from her.

Meg scanned the remaining companions for injury and found only one. Elessar had used his head as a weapon it seemed, and had managed to open a great gash in his forehead. It wasn't terribly deep, but was bleeding profusely. Stepping in front of him, she indicated the wound with a look and he paused in cleaning his weapons to allow her to place her hands upon him. A shiver like icy water passed through him and in seconds the wound was gone.

"My thanks," said the king with a slight bow.

Next, Meghailin checked on her patients who had returned from their own arrow retrieval. "No stone walls yet, I trust?" she asked.

"I feel fine, Meghailin," Feia replied, and Legolas also indicated that he was well. But then he asked quietly, "My lady, how is it that I live?"

At that, the companions halted whatever they were doing in order to attend Meg's reply. Meg tried to make eye contact with Feia, but her sister had become very interested in the ground directly beneath her feet.

Meg sighed, "Oh, very well!" and then answered as best she could. "Prince Legolas, it is true that you were near to death when my sister brought me to aid you. My skill alone would not have sufficed to save you, for healing takes energy from the one to be healed, and you had none to spare. Serafé allowed me to let the healing energy pass through her to you. You used her strength in place of your own to heal, and so you live."

"But my lady," Gimli said, "When our Lady Feia first suggested it, you said it would not work. And yet something made you change your mind; what?"

A quick glance at Feia, continuing to contemplate her boots, offered Meg no guidance as to how she should proceed, and so she went with total honesty. "No, lord Gimli, in nearly every case, attempting such a thing would have meant death for them both. Feia convinced me that this might be one of the rare instances in which it could work."

"Might be?" Legolas grated, _"Could!?"_ his face tightened in a grimace, "Are you saying that you were not sure? That the lady might have died? And you allowed this!?"

"You forget yourself, master elf!" Meg snapped. "It was not your decision to make, nor was it mine. Feia had good reason to believe she would survive the process, and she must have felt it was worth the risk," her tone indicated that Meg was not so sure.

Legolas squatted into a crouch as though falling and scrubbed his hands across his face. He balanced there without turning to where Feia stood at his back, but he directed his words to her, "What good reason could you possibly have, my lady?"

Feia never looked up, but answered, "The only way a person can accept another person's energy in order to heal, is if their lifesongs are in very close harmony. If they are not, the person receiving the healing will pull energy from the other and not be able to use it, and so pull more, and then more. The process cannot be stopped once begun, until either healing or death is achieved." Feia swallowed and continued, "Few people's lifesongs harmonize well enough. Sometimes a parent can offer energy to their child, especially a young child; occasionally a sibling, particularly a twin can do it; and…and concinnati have a fair chance at it, also." With that Feia fell silent again.

Legolas's mind went back to his commune with the tree and the songs that he had heard; the song that was his, and the song that he associated with the lady. "I think I have some understanding of what you mean by lifesongs," he said, "but I know not what a concinnati may be."

At an appealing look from Feia, Meg took up the explanation again, "On our home world, (and at these words, all but Elessar gave a start) we named the person best suited to share our lives, our concinnate. It means, 'harmonious match.' The finding of one's concinnate is a powerful experience and is often accompanied by miraculous or uncanny events." Now Meg was staring at the ground, for she could feel Haldir's gaze boring into her.

"Miraculous events like warning dreams and visions of a concinnate's peril, my lady?" Elessar asked.

Haldir added, "Or learning a person's language from their eyes, perhaps? For I am certain that the lady told me, in her room at the inn on the night that we met, that she did not know elvish."

"Yes," was all Meg could manage, thinking of what Haldir might have said, but had not.

_Her room at the inn?_ Legolas narrowed his eyes at Haldir, and then turned to look at Feia at last. He moved in front of her and put his hands on her shoulders. Ducking his head, he forced her to look at him. "And you were sure of this, my lady? That we are…concinnati?"

"I am sure, now," she replied truthfully. "We are alive."

Legolas squeezed her shoulders so hard, Feia was sure she would be marked. The elf's jaw worked silently as he stared at her and then abruptly he strode away into the trees. Feia sighed.

The companions began to politely disperse, but Haldir bent close to Meghailin's ear and said, "One wonders what else might constitute a miraculous or uncanny event, my lady," and he boldly laid his hand upon her, pressing where his ring lay hidden. Then he, too, was striding away, leaving Meg gasping.

"Your pardon, sister, but was Haldir just touching..." gesturing vaguely, Feia tried again. "I mean, there seems to be something – Light! You are really blushing! What is going on between you and that silent elf?"

"Why?" Meg snarled, "Did you not have time to discuss it all at length whilst you were sipping tea together in your room at the inn?"

"I do not recall there being any tea," Feia said, desperately attempting to keep the smile out of her voice.

"Oh, never mind!" Meg moaned, "It is quite impossible to think clearly around that high-handed, overbearing, elf!"

"All I can say," Feia said crisply, "is that I am surrounded by a plague of elves with simply dreadful behavior." And then she added mind to mind, _"Tell me!"_ and she looped her arm with her sister's.

And, at last, Meg did tell. From her dream and her miraculous acquisition of the golden emerald ring to her suspicions in regard to Haldir – she told it all.

Chapter 11:

**Burdens of Fate **

Elessar debated whether to give Legolas privacy, or to go after him; the former being his preference. And yet, there was little enough time for all that must be done; not the least of which was to see that Legolas was given an opportunity to eat something, for the king doubted whether the elf had taken much in the way of food or drink for some time.

And so, collecting a skin of wine, bread, cheese and fruit for his friend, Elessar followed in the direction the elf had gone.

Legolas had not gone far, but sat still amidst the trees - a shadow hidden by shadow. Even the former Ranger might have missed him, had the elf not addressed him in a soft anxious voice, "You have asked nothing of my errand, Elessar."

The king lowered himself to the ground, wordlessly passing food and drink to Legolas; who accepted it, but sat simply holding it. "The princess was not alone in her dreams of prophecy, my friend," Elessar answered him. "On the night that Lady Feia first perceived your peril, I also dreamed. I dreamed that my father named me traitor and attempted to take my life."

Legolas shuddered, burying his face in the crook of his elbow where it rested upon his knee. The elf's voice was ragged with strain when he finally said, "It was not worth the lady's risk to save me! A, Elbereth! If I can survive this grief, it shall be to become my father's executioner! My people lie under an evil spell, Elessar! They need me! And yet I desperately crave an end. Uva hen amarth úváni onin?" _Will this fate not pass from me? _

The king had no comfort for the troubled Prince of Eryn Lasgalen save that which the elf had once offered to him. "Your friends are with you, Legolas," Elessar said. Legolas dragged in a breath, sitting up straighter, but he did not speak.

XXX

When Legolas and Elessar rejoined the others, Elladan had returned but Elrohir had not. While waiting, the companions all made ready to depart, eating a quick cold meal and rechecking their gear a final time. Meghailin had taken the opportunity to unpack her green healer's cloak from her satchel, and Haldir wore his own cloak once more.

As Legolas helped Gimli to mount in his accustomed place upon Arod, he heard Feia making much of the lady Meghailin's cloak. The garment was apparently new, and a gift from someone named Kelson. Legolas found himself intent upon the conversation between the two ladies and noted that Haldir also was attending closely. The ladies for their part were oblivious that they had attracted an audience.

"And thanks ever so much for leaving me to deal with his majesty's ire, sister," Meg was saying. "He was quite cross with you for leaving without a proper goodbye!"

"I told Kelson I was called away. He did not much like it, but he always knew that I would leave one day!" Feia exclaimed. "Did he expect me to wait for a formal state feast with endless speeches and interminable formality? Light, what a dreadful nightmare! It was easier to leave quickly and quietly and be done."

"Easier for you, perhaps," Meg chastised gently, as she secured her belongings on Hasufel. "Kelson cares for you, and I thought you cared for him. Would it have killed you to consider his feelings?"

Feia had mounted Cricket and she looked down at Meg from her saddle. She kept her voice pitched low, but not so low that Legolas had to strain to hear; not much anyway. "I considered his feelings last year, his and my own, and I made the best decision for us both. You cannot stand there and tell me that Kelson wishes things were different, because I know that is untrue!"

Legolas noted that Cricket was dancing where she stood, picking up on her mistress's agitation. The subject was obviously more disturbing to the lady than she was letting on.

"That depends upon what you mean by different. I can tell you that Kelson wishes that you would make your home in Gwynedd." Meg swung into her own saddle and thrust a long slender box at Feia, saying, "He bade me bring this to you."

"You're staring, Laddie," Gimli whispered in amusement. With a start, Legolas glanced at the dwarf and then smoothly mounted Arod. Still, he could not keep his eyes from returning to the lady as she opened her gift from King Kelson of Gwynedd – King Kelson of Gwynedd who cared for her.

From the box Feia pulled a crisp parchment sealed in red wax and a knife in a dark red leather sheath. Feia admired the blade first, unsheathing it and appreciating the craftsmanship; expertly testing the balance. Then she studied the design of the hilt and she laughed in delight. Legolas felt his heart lurch painfully at the sound and Arod too began to dance. The elf could easily see the hilt, which was formed in the shape of a golden lion with ruby eyes balanced upon its head and playing with a silver knot-work ball as if it were a ball of yarn and the lion a kitten. Inside the silver ball was a captured moonstone like those the lady wore in her hair. It was cleverly made so that the shape fitted itself well to her slender hand.

Breaking the seal upon the parchment, Feia read quickly - her smile first widening, then softening, then widening again. She looked intently at the knife hilt once more as though searching for something. Finding it, she leaned close to Meg with a laugh, "Araxie added a message for me at the end! She wrote, 'see if you can find my addition to the design.' Look, Meggie, in the lion's ear!"

Meg took the dagger and peered at it curiously, and then she too was giggling in delight at the tiny onyx set into the gold there. "Araxie claims that if it weren't for you and Rothana putting a flea in Kelson's ear, she would have been wed to Cuin of Howicce before the king knew what was good for him. Now the flea shall reside there for all time!" Meg returned the knife, and then asked, "May I know what Kelson had to say?"

Legolas was still trying to sort out what that bit about Araxie and a flea might mean, when the soft smile returned to Feia's face and his stomach clenched. Feia folded the parchment small, tucked it into her belt pouch, and answered, "He said, 'Thank you for standing me on my head, reminding me that a king must also be a man, and a man must sometimes recall what it was to be a lad. I am a better king and a better man for it.' Then he asked me to remember that I have a home in Gwynedd, if ever I should want one."

Feia removed her dagger with its sheath and belt and closed them into the box, and then she replaced them at her waist with the gift of Kelson of Gwynedd. The box went into the top of her saddlebag. Haldir caught Legolas's eye and mimed wiping his brow with his hand. Only then did Legolas realize he was scowling darkly, his eyebrows knitted together and he quickly smoothed his features.

Haldir smiled, knowingly. He had not been overjoyed to hear that some man had gifted lady Meghailin with that beautiful cloak, but the conversation had alleviated any jealousy he might have had for this King of a land called Gwynedd. But his attention was called back to the ladies when Feia said, "I am surprised his grace the Duke of Cassan did not have a parting gift for you, Meg."

"Dhugal has been avoiding me of late," Meg laughed, "I fear he has found my temper less than pleasant since you left. But the clasp is inscribed from him and Kelson both." She blushed prettily, "On behalf of the Healers at the Thuryn School, of course."

"Oh, yes," said Feia forcing a straight face, "of course!" Feia had often wondered if shy Dhugal might have pursued Meg's hand, had Feia been persuaded to marry his liege lord and blood brother, for the duke seemed to admire his fellow healer greatly. They would never know, now. Feia's smile grew from soft, to decidedly warm as she thought of why. "Gwynedd will never be our home, Meghailin," she said firmly, sharing the dazzling smile with her sister.

"No it will not," Meg agreed returning a smile as bright and as beautiful. Then Meg glanced over to where Haldir patiently waited on Hithui. He was watching her, as he always seemed to be. She dropped her eyes hastily, but not before she saw his expression transform from a look of stony jealousy to one of triumph.

Legolas began to breathe again at Feia's pronouncement, but then he roughly reigned in his heart. It would be better for the lady to return to this Gwynedd. Far better that, than for her to trust her heart to him. If there was anything left of Legolas, son of Thranduil when this was over, it would not be fit for this brave and lovely woman.

Just then, Elrohir returned and reported that all was clear. Elessar called upon the companions to depart, setting a brisk pace.

Behind him Gimli said absently, "Laddie, it looks as though someone has cut off some of your hair." Legolas allowed Gimli to guide his hand to the tight braid at the back of his head that had come mostly undone and ended in a rough cut about four inches too soon. Legolas did not understand why, but a knot of cold dread settled into his heart. Suddenly, the pace did not seem brisk enough!

What could Thranduil, the new lord of the Hill of Black Magic want with a lock of his son's hair?

XXX

The king of the woodland elves paced the confines of his new seat: the fortress of Dol Guldur, which had once been the home of the Enemy whilst he was returning to power and had taken the form of the Necromancer.

When Thranduil had come to this place over a year gone, he had come to cleanse it of the evil the Enemy had left behind here, and to reclaim it for the elves. And he had found evil here, but also much power that a person might use if he had the strength of mind to turn it to good.

In the central tower he had found a powerful tool and he had taken it for his own use. It was a beautiful thing; a torque of gold set with three bright gems. Wearing it, Thranduil's elven gift of foresight was enhanced – strengthened. In time, Thranduil had taken to wearing the ornament all the time, for he never knew when an important vision might come to him.

A few weeks after returning to Eryn Lasgalen, on a whim he could not quite follow to its source, Thranduil had gone back to the fortress of Dol Guldur; and while wearing the torque within the tower itself, he was gifted with the strongest Foreseeing of his long life. From it he learned that the elves of Middle Earth were in gravest danger.

Thranduil had seen a woman whose coming would deny the elves their haven; their Summerland. All knew that the time of the elves on Middle Earth had come to an end with the destruction of the One Ring. It was the time of men, now. If the elves did not take the ships to Valinor, they would ultimately diminish and die. But in Thranduil's vision he had seen this woman step out of a gate of light and into the embrace of his own son. And with that he had watched in horror as beginning with Legolas, elves gave up their longing for the sea, turned their back on their destiny, and embraced the fate that would come to them by remaining bound to this land.

Thranduil would not allow this to happen! It was worth any sacrifice to prevent it, even to the sacrifice of his son's life.

The elven king halted his pacing in the center of the tower where the elf maid Nimírië stood silent and compliant awaiting his whim, flanked by two hideous orc. How he detested the creatures! But it was fitting that he, Thranduil, should rule his realm from this place and take as his servants the twisted beings that the Enemy had created and the traitorous Istari, Saruman had further corrupted. It was fitting and just that an elf of great power and authority should turn this evil to some good, for the sake of all the elves of Middle Earth.

Taking a stone dagger from the table at the center of the tower where certain items awaited his use, he addressed Nimírië with regret in his voice, "Your name will be spoken in honor forever in Valinor where our people will sing of this day. Our sacrifice will ensure that this is so!" Nimírië's expression did not alter, even when, with a lightning-quick stroke, Thranduil cut the fair elf's throat; she only made a soft gurgling sigh and crumpled where she stood to lie beside the twelve other bodies littering the floor.

"Drain their blood and dispose of the bodies," Thranduil commanded the orc, who complied readily in anticipation of the way in which the disposition of the bodies might take place.

If the brute's malevolent glee in any way troubled the elven king, he made no sign of it, for he was standing now beside the stone table and considering what it held. Upon the surface there rested an iron bowl, a tiny, stoppered flask containing the blood of his son, and a bit of braid cut from the elven prince's hair.

Thranduil had sent orc in large numbers with instructions to kill his traitorous son, but if they did not succeed, still Legolas would die. For this, Thranduil had spent the lives of thirteen of his people! Legolas's treachery had already cost the elves dearly, but it would cost no more! It would take many days more to prepare the spell that he had found; an evil spell in the Dark Speech. Thranduil was confident that it would succeed. He was confident that he could turn even the foulest work of the Enemy to the good of his people.

Chapter 12:

**Concinnati **

Through the rest of the night and the next day the companions continued with few short stops. The elves, save Legolas whom Meg forbade to leave the party, dropped back often to scout the back trail and obliterate any trace of their passage.

Late the following night they made a cold camp. They all needed rest, but Meg firmly pressed food upon Feia and Legolas the moment they had dismounted from their horses, and then she ordered them to sleep.

The two huddled in their blankets on opposite sides of the camp as their magically enhanced energy slowly dissipated. Feia felt oddly alone, almost hollow inside without Legolas's presence beside her. How very quickly all can be changed that she should need the presence of a stranger more than a cloak against the cold, more than food or rest – so very strange.

For his part, Legolas's heart assaulted him for so many reasons he hardly knew why he felt bereft.

The companions made ready to leave before the sun was well up in the morning, waking Meg's charges last thing upon departing. Legolas raised himself up on shaking arms only to collapse back into unconsciousness. Feia gave a fitful moan and would not wake at all. Greatly reluctant, Meg used the fatigue banishing spell once more to revive them; cautioning Gimli to keep a hold on Legolas, for she feared the spell's limit would be reached precipitously. As a precaution, Feia rode before Meg upon Hasufel, the larger of their two mounts.

They continued at the same pace, in hopes that they would reach the shelter of the hidden glen well before nightfall. Even with her own warning, it came as a surprise to Meg when just after the sun crested noon Feia gave a tiny sigh and nearly tumbled from Hasufel. It was Legolas, kneeing Arod close, whose attention had not wavered and he gently caught her in his arms easing her back to the saddle where Meg could get a proper hold on her. Then Elessar on huge Roheryn came and scooped his liege lady up to rest against his chest.

Before another hour had passed, Legolas had gone a shade of gray like ashes; swaying dangerously upon Arod's back. The only thing that kept the elf in his seat was the burly arm of the dwarf, tight across his chest.

Fortunately, they reached their destination shortly afterward and Meg was able to place deep healing slumber upon Feia and Legolas. This time, in the safety of the hidden glen, the companions built a comforting fire and settled in to wait for time to complete the healing of their stricken companions.

Meg took the opportunity to explore the lovely little glen. A wide screen of trees split by a well worn path blocked the commodious cave from the rest of the glen, but Meg followed the path and the sound of a waterfall to a small pool which was fed on one side by a hot spring and on the other by the cascading Limlight. A mist of steam rose dreamily over the place where the warm water mingled with the cold. The walls of the glen rose high to either side, tumbles of moss and shrub covered rock, flecked with quartz.

The first stars had appeared above in the twilight sky when Haldir found her, as she ought to have realized he would do. She sat, had she known, upon the same rock where Feia had kept her vigil a few short nights ago; and she breathed deeply the air of Middle Earth. Another world; a world far from Gwynedd and farther still from where Alderaan had been, but a world she had been destined to make her home for all of her life. "It is very beautiful here, my lord, is it not?" she said to the elf, who stood behind her, silent in the shadows.

"Yes, very beautiful," he responded watching the reflected twilight upon her lovely face.

"Uvalyë úmarsí nin anlhaw e uial lirinennen?" _Will you not abide here with me and listen to the twilight watersong?_ Meg asked, the peaceful evening making her fearless.

Haldir sat upon the rock beside her and took her hand in his "Maruvan oialë nalyë pedo," _I will abide forever at your word,_ Haldir said in a low intense voice that set her shivering.

"Are you chilled, my lady?" he asked drawing her hand up to his chest where he could warm it with both his own.

"Nay, my lord," Meg assured him, "Only...will you tell me of your home? Describe to me Caras Galadhon."

"Ah, lady!" Haldir sighed, "No description could match the beauty of the Heart of Elvendom on Middle Earth! The spell of timelessness has been lifted somewhat since our Lady of Light passed into the west, but always the echoes of her footsteps will remain high under the canopy of the Mallorn trees where my people dwell. You will see! It is a place of rest and healing; where even from the depths of grief, the deep strains of elven joy may be heard and experienced.

When the Fellowship accompanying the Ring Bearer passed through the shadows of Moria, believing Mithrandir had gone beyond recall, they sheltered in their sorrow upon the fringes of Lothlorien beside swift Nimrodel. There Legolas felt the magic of our elven home, though never had he visited Lórien before, and he sang for his companions the lay of Nimrodel the fair, for whom the river is called; and so they drew strength to go on. And so, also, my brothers and I were called to assist them.

That is the power of my home, my lady," Haldir finished.

"How ever could you leave such a place?" Meg asked.

Haldir met her eyes and held them. "There came a time when even in Lórien rest and peace were denied me, and I sought tirelessly for the answer to why; to discover what I could possibly require that was not mine in Caras Galadhon. My answer was this," and he pulled from his tunic the sarnnenmír and mithril ring that was her father's. Even though she had known it was there, still, the sight sent a tremor through Meg, and she gasped softly.

"The answer was you, my lady," Haldir continued, removing the ring from the chord at his neck and pressing it into her palm. "And so I left Lothlorien to find you, as I promised I would do."

"But you found my sister instead," Meg replied, "for I feared to trust the message of my heart and to go with her when she left Gwynedd." She reached up with her free hand and brushed his jaw with her fingertips, "I am sorry, my lord."

"You did not come with Lady Feia, but I felt your faith, lady, and it guided me." Haldir grasped her fingers where they rested upon his chin and lifted them to his lips. Meg shivered and her lips parted in an unconscious invitation that Haldir could not deny.

Meg met him halfway, and his lips, so warm in the chill of evening pressed hers in the softest caress. "Nalyë sí navedui," _you are here at last,_ Haldir breathed against her mouth.

They sat silent together for a pleasant hour in the gathering night, each reveling in the presence of the other. Then Meg unclasped the chain about her neck and said, "Would you have your ring back again, my lord?"

"Nay, lady, I would ask you to hold it for me awhile longer," taking the chain from her he also took back her father's ring and slipped it on the chain also. Then he reached around her and refastened the chain. "Hold them both, if you will, until the right time."

XXX

Late in the morning, first Feia and then Legolas woke long enough to eat a hearty meal. Legolas ate so well, in fact, that Gimli accused the elf of having too long associated with hobbits. Lady Meghailin laughingly assured them that Legolas would require meals as large for the next days in order to regain his accustomed level of vigor.

Both of Meg's charges returned almost immediately to sleep, and stayed that way until the smells of supper cooking woke them at dusk. The warm thick stew Gimli had prepared was enough to leave all the companions in a state of sated somnolence, and it speeded the recovering elf and woman back to a sleep that lasted through the night.

During the long hours that Feia and Legolas spent in healing slumber, Elessar, Haldir, and the sons of Elrond all took it in turn to search for signs of pursuit. The former ranger and the elves always returned having found no indication that they had not successfully slipped the web which Thranduil had spun to keep Legolas from gaining his freedom.

Haldir was thoughtful and courteous with Meg, asking after her comfort and anticipating her needs, but he did not seek to be alone with her again. If any of the companions suspected that anything was between them, they most likely believed it to be gratitude for what she had done for Legolas.

The gratitude of the rest of the companions kept them at a respectful distance, almost as if she were a visiting queen who did not speak their language. There was much bowing and 'my-ladying' but little conversation. Meg found the long vigil somewhat lonely, but she held her hour with Haldir as a lovely secret that brought a warm glow and a smile to her lips at odd moments. Occasionally Haldir would catch her in one of those moments and he would share the smile with her. She appreciated his care of her honor, but she wished they could be free to talk together. There was so much to share.

But Haldir was well over 3,000 years old. He had learned the lessons of patience well, and however much he craved to know her, he was aware that they had all the time they could ever need. Meg was much newer to immortality, and also battled the tendency toward impatience from her mother's human blood, but Haldir somehow managed to communicate his calm surety through his every glance, and she was at peace…for now.

The following morning Feia woke feeling refreshed and well. Legolas also seemed well enough to be getting on with, and after sharing with the companions all that he knew of the peril of the woodland elves, he was anxious to do just that. But Meg insisted that they wait through another day and night before attempting to travel. Several idle hours passed, at which Legolas chafed visibly, so that Meg eventually conceded that the elf could manage a turn at scouting. He and Haldir set out together in the early afternoon.

Feia was in high good humor and suggested that just because they were on an adventure with a band of unwashed heroes was no reason not to have a bath when there was an opportunity. Meg's sister had never been one to complain at hardship, but Feia was the first to admit that she preferred luxury when she could get it. In the same way, though Feia was always the first to dispense with dresses when it seemed prudent, she would also be the first to engage a seamstress when next they returned to civilization.

Though it was Feia's idea, Meg thought wistfully of the hot spring and crisp cool waterfall awaiting them and so she was less than a half-step behind her sister when Feia told the companions still in camp, "If you do not mind, my lords, Meghailin and I request that you give us the privacy of the pool until we return."

A chorus of "Of course, my lady," and, "It shall be as you say," followed them down the sheltered path to the water.

It was an enjoyable interlude for Feia and Meg, who had missed one another's company in the past weeks. It was the first opportunity for them to have any significant amount of time, uninterrupted by fighting, fleeing or sleep, away from their male companions. They kept their talk to simple topics by unspoken accord, for the newness and uncertainty of their situation did not bear dwelling upon.

At one point, however, Feia did allow, "It is terrifying, Meggie, to belong to someone so utterly and know him not at all." And when disrobing for her bath revealed that Meg now wore both her father's ring and Haldir's, she acknowledged Feia's silent query with only a gentle smile and a deep blush.

After relaxing in the hot spring for their bath, Meg, whose elven blood permitted her to tolerate the cold somewhat better than Feia, decided to enjoy a refreshing rinse under the cascade. Feia laid out their garments on the large flat rock and pulled herself up upon it as well, busying herself in the late afternoon sun with a bit of toweling to dry her long hair.

All in all, it was pleasant to forget that tomorrow would bring more hard travel, very likely more danger, and who knew what from their two elven concinnati.

XXX

Haldir was encouraged that Legolas showed every sign of having made a full recovery from his ordeal, but he was troubled by the unguarded grief and anxiety that he could read in his friend's expression when the elf prince did not know that he was observed. It was true that Legolas tended to be more expressive than the average elf, though assuredly not by human standards, but his emotions were raw, ragged and closer than ever to the surface.

He would not pry, for it was not the elven way, but Haldir wondered at the weight of hopelessness that seemed to bear down upon the woodland elf. Never had he seen Legolas give in to despair, even during the long black night of Helm's Deep. And with the beacon of hope that flared brightly in Haldir's heart at the mere thought of his own lady, he wondered even more that Legolas could not find cause to be glad in the presence of Lady Feia who clearly loved him.

The elves found no sign that orc had discovered their trail and so they returned to the hidden glen in the light of late afternoon. Legolas suggested a circuit within the walls of the glen, largely because he wished to postpone the moment when he must return to the camp and the troubling woman who waited there. Haldir agreed, for he would not consider any measure too much care when it came to the safety of his lady.

And so, rather than returning to the cave, Legolas scrambled nimbly up the rocky wall to their left from whence the Limlight tumbled, while Haldir disappeared into the trees heading for the escarpment on the opposite side of the glen.

Legolas was deeply preoccupied in his mind, attending to the subtleties of the environment around him, searching for anything that might indicate trouble only by ingrained habit. And he had the confidence of an elf that habit alone would suffice. Yet perhaps, had his thoughts not been so widely scattered, he might have turned back at once at the sound of singing drifting up to him with the sound of the cascading water. Powerfully did he wish that he had, when he broke through the concealing leaves which had blocked his view of the pool below, for what he saw was in no way designed to bring him ease.

At his feet, Legolas was dimly aware of movement, and it was from thence that a sweet contralto voice was raised in song, but his eyes locked all unwillingly upon the lady sprawled out on a large flat rock in the sun. Feia lay with her head toward him, her unbound hair spread in the warming rays to dry. Still damp from her bath she had donned only a white linen shift, which clung becomingly. Her legs, appearing far longer than they aught, were drawn up with one knee crossed over the other so that she could bounce her foot in gentle rhythm. And then she also sang, adding her pleasant soprano in harmony woven with the elf maiden's song.

For the longest time there was no thought of propriety – no shame at observing unbidden the lady in her privacy. There was no thought at all! Legolas listened to the sweet music that lacked the etheric perfection of elven song, but somehow bespelled him the more for it – rising from a place of passion that had long been channeled into sorrow by his people. He watched in fascination as the lady combed her fingers slowly through her drying hair, rich and dark, and shimmering with copper and bronze in the sunlight.

A sharp pain recalled Legolas to himself as a slender branch he held back with his hand snapped in his grip. He had been holding his breath, but he expelled it with a hiss and when air rushed in again, it came shallow.

He should turn around and go, and yet it took all of the self-control that Legolas could summon not to dive from his perch into the pool below in order to reach this woman, Feia, with her enticing song, her haunting face, her bravery, and her faith. It would be so easy to lose himself in her! Lose himself and forget these past days; forget the future with its omens of woe.

With a groan Legolas sat back on his heels. He burned with self-loathing and more. He had naught to offer the lady save grief! To spare her that, he could endure much. He could and he would!

XXX

As Haldir climbed the outer ring of tumbled rock above the pool, he had no doubt from whom the beckoning song came. As it rose to meet him, he quite deliberately quickened his pace, for he greatly desired to observe his lady as she sang. It never occurred to him what else Meghailin might be doing at the pool. Not until he came to an overlook with a clear view of the falls, and then it was far too late.

Meg stood with her back to the embankment where he stood. The dark water covered her nearly to her shoulders, but her arms were lifted over her head while her fingers worked her hair, darkened to deepest gold, under the tumbling spray. Haldir did not lack for imagination and he felt control of it slide completely away along with his patience. He must make this lady his wife!

It would be the work of a moment to climb down to her, and Haldir had made the decision to do just that when Meg tossed a smile over her shoulder toward the shore. And then a second voice rose and joined with Meghailin's in song. Haldir froze. Lady Feia shared the privacy of the pool with his lady.

It was unchivalrous and certainly unwise of Haldir to observe his lady in this way without her knowledge, but Haldir would not violate Lady Feia's privacy; not even accidentally if he could help it. As he turned to go, he raked a last possessive glance over his bereth, his lady wife, promising himself that soon it would be possible to call her that in truth.

But at the last moment before disappearing down the glen, Haldir spied another movement at the crest of the falls. He locked eyes with Legolas for the briefest moment. Rarely had he seen a look so tormented, or one so determined on an elven face before. Legolas acknowledged him with the barest nod, and then cast a glance toward Princess Serafé as if assuring himself that Haldir's view of her was indeed obstructed. Haldir might have been insulted had he not also automatically checked Legolas's line of sight to his own lady.

And then the elven prince was gone. Haldir took his example and melted into the trees.

Chapter 13:

_A note to those just tuning in: This story was starting to take form a very long time ago and at the time Feia came into being there was no information from George Lucas on how Princess Leia came to be raised by Bail Organa in the Star Wars universe. I made up my own version and for the purposes of this tale I am sticking to mine with apologies all around._

**A Melancholy Tale **

As afternoon became evening, Meghailin left Feia meditating beside the pool upon her rock perch. Meg was preoccupied as she made her way back toward the camp, remembering the moments she had experienced there with Haldir two nights gone. And so she almost walked into Legolas who stood in the path, seemingly quite lost in his own mind.

He looked dreadful, Meg thought, as if he were losing a war and he carried grievous injuries upon his heart. Unconsciously, the elf worried at the palm of his hand with his thumb. Seeing this, Meg tsked briskly and snatched up the wounded hand in both of hers, saying, "Let us attempt to get through a full day without my having to do this, shall we, my lord?" Cool energy tingled across Legolas's palm, and she released it whole and healed.

"Thank you, my lady," Legolas said, but still he seemed to be somewhere else entirely, and Meg did not have to guess to know one direction his thoughts might be taking. "Prince Legolas, it may interest you to know that my father had a foreseeing regarding Feia and her concinnate on the night he named her elf friend."

_There,_ Meg thought, _now I have his undivided attention!_ Legolas looked at her, in fact, with a most disconcerting intensity. And so she continued quickly, "The foreseeing came in two parts. The first was true enough, I think, for my father said that if Feia had not been named elf friend, her concinnate would die before ever they met. I cannot speak for the king, of course, but I believe that Serafé being an elf friend convinced him to trust my sister, accept her oath, and allow her to travel with him as he set out to find you."

Meg paused, for she was not entirely sure how much to tell the elf, who continued to stare at her as if he were attempting to pull thoughts from her mind with his gaze alone. Very well, he clearly wanted to know and she would give him the whole of it! Perhaps something would bear fruit in that heart of his, maybe even before it was too late!

"The second part of the foreseeing was this," she continued. "Feia and her concinnate must hold to their faith, else she will be doomed to repeat her mother's sorrow."

Legolas had to work moisture back into his mouth before he could speak, "And what was her mother's sorrow?" he asked softly. He was positive he did not want the answer to this question, but just as sure that he needed to know it.

"Padme Endari Naberrie was Queen Amidala of Naboo when she met her concinnate, Anakin Skywalker." Meg began, "She was only fourteen at the time and he ten, and so they had no way of knowing what their future together would be, but they were drawn to one another as friends even then.

On the eve of what was to become known as the Clone Wars, Padme's term as queen had ended and she served Naboo as ambassador to the Interplanetary Senate. She was a fierce advocate for freedom and a target for certain factions who thought she would serve their purposes better dead. Anakin was a Jedi Knight in training by that time, and along with his Jedi Master, he was assigned the duty of protecting her. And so the two were reunited and fought side by side. They also came to know one another as concinnati and were secretly wed.

But Anakin lost his faith in love, and he sought to protect Padme by turning from his love for her, and so his greatest strength became his weakness – a weakness that the evil soon-to-be Emperor exploited. In a very short time, little remained of what had once been a fine man and a powerful Jedi. By the time Padme realized she carried Anakin's twin babes, he had already begun to be known as Darth Vader, a name which carried fear with it wherever it was spoken; for he was responsible, on behalf of his master, for the death and torment of countless people.

Feia's mother married Bail Riatt Organa and became Queen of Alderaan, for she considered Anakin to be dead. Bail was a good and kind friend to her as well as an ally. Bail raised Serafé's elder sister, Leia, as his own; but Leia's twin, Luke was sent away in secret in order to protect him from the Emperor who would seek to use him if ever his paternity was suspected. He was raised far from his mother, not knowing until he was grown that he had a sister or that his father was, in fact, alive and the dreaded right hand of the Emperor himself.

Padme tried to continue her good work, but her faith was failing as Darth Vader's depredations became ever greater. She came to care for her husband and she bore Bail two children whom she loved, but loving the children who remained to her only reminded her of the son who was denied that love." Meg always found Padme's story incredibly sad, and so she was struggling to maintain a steady voice as she finished, "When Feia and her twin were only three years old, and Leia and hers were five, Padme died. She just died – because she didn't want to be alive anymore."

Many of the things that the lady had said made very little sense to Legolas, but he was moved by the sad tale and he sensed that there was more, "And what became of Anakin…of Darth Vader?" he asked.

"Luke Skywalker became a Jedi, like his father," Meg answered, "When it was revealed to him that the father he had never known was really Darth Vader it was almost the end of him. But Luke kept his faith! He believed that there was still good within the man who was his father - that somewhere trapped inside this agent of evil, Anakin Skywalker still lived. And so Luke faced them, Darth Vader and the Emperor, though he knew that the Emperor would kill him without a qualm. And the Emperor tried! But Luke's faith reawakened Anakin's heart and he saved his son's life; killing the Emperor, and himself in the process." Meg hugged herself for comfort as she completed the tale.

"And this is the fate which your father foresaw for Feia?" Legolas nearly spat, "How can you bear to look at me, my lady, knowing what I will do to her?"

"Not what you _will_ do, my lord!" Meg was deeply frustrated. Is this the message that Legolas would take away from Padme's tragedy - confirmation that he was right to resist his connection with the woman's daughter? Meg must make this stubborn elf see reason!

"If you keep your faith, this fate shall pass Feia by! If Anakin had kept his faith as Luke did, Padme and Anakin would still be happily wed. Of course we would have to do without Feia, then, for she would not exist. But I pray that you take my meaning in this!"

"I shall think on all that you have said, my lady," Legolas said humbly, and bowed to her. Then he left her there, becoming invisible amidst the trees between one breath and another.

Meg sighed heavily, staring at the place where Legolas had disappeared. Had he understood? She could only hope. "A melancholy tale, my lady, and a melancholy expression," Haldir appeared from the trees at the other side of the trail.

"His mind and heart are in great conflict; I do not know if he is capable of hearing you," he continued, lifting his hands to her face and smoothing her forehead with his thumbs where it was drawn with concern.

Meg leaned into Haldir, accepting his touch and the comfort his presence brought. She was suddenly very tired. Everything was new and strange so that sometimes Meg felt she must be dreaming, but this elf was solid and real. Sensing her mood, Haldir drew her into his arms, with her head resting upon his chest.

To Meg's surprise, tears came unbidden to her eyes. It was a welcome release, just letting them come. When Haldir set her away from him and saw her lashes heavy and wet, and observed the silent tears on her pale cheeks, he kissed them away with his lips as light upon her skin as the flutter of butterfly wings – a fluttering which repeated itself against the cage of her ribs where her heart dwelled, and again in the place where her stomach had once been, but seemed to have abandoned.

Meg intercepted those gentle lips with her own and kissed him softly. But sooner than she would have liked, Haldir broke their kiss. Setting her away from him, he said, "Precious little patience have I, bereth nin. We will be wed at Rivendell!"

At that his lady laughed a rippling laugh, and Haldir started in surprise. "Normally," she said, "a lady prefers to be asked about such things, my lord." Then she lifted her hands to frame his face, and added, "But under the circumstances, I am willing to let your presumption pass."

XXX

Legolas stayed amongst the trees for some time, attempting to locate his center – his peace, but without success. And as he wandered the tiny glen he eventually lost the battle he had not known he waged with his treacherous feet and found that they had carried him all unwillingly to the shadows in sight of his lady where she sat in silent meditation.

Serafé was also having difficulty finding her center; her meditation interrupted by troubling thoughts and fresh and frightening emotions. Eventually, she had to give in and admit it was useless, drawing up her legs and hugging her boots. She pressed her aching eyes into the soft fabric of her leggings.

When Legolas came and stood before her, he gently touched her hand. To gain her attention, he told himself. When she startled, it felt only natural to take that hand in his. Surprisingly, the act calmed them both, as if the lack of connection between them alone had been what prevented them from finding the peace that they each sought.

"I have been remiss, my lady," Legolas said in his low soft voice, "For I have not yet thanked you for saving my life. Still, I cannot be glad that you should choose to risk yourself on my behalf."

"And I never considered it a choice, my lord," Feia responded simply. "I do not choose to breathe in and out."

The response surprised him, and the surprise was followed immediately by a deluge of emotions that made sitting down imperative. And so he found himself beside her. He was confused, overwhelmed, worried. He was humbled. Raising her hand to his lips he kissed the back of her fingers fervently, and then he flattened her hand between his two, not allowing himself to analyze why he could not let her go.

They sat that way in silence for several moments before Legolas said with some heat, "I am in every way undeserving, my lady!"

Feia looked hard at Legolas, and she saw the pain clearly. He believed his words to be true! "My lord," she said carefully, "I cannot think that is so, though it matters not! I belong to you." Legolas stiffened at this, but still she added, "It simply is."

He searched her eyes for any sign of doubt, and found none. And then, just like breathing in and out, Legolas reached for her and tenderly brushed her cheek with his fingertips. Feia turned her face into his palm and closed her eyes, her lips parting on an almost imperceptible sigh.

Quickly, before he gained control of the impulse, Legolas dipped his head, touching her lips with his. "Lisse," he whispered. _Sweet _

Opening her eyes, Feia found him watching her. He had not moved at all, his lips hovering by hers, his eyes filling her vision. She held her breath, afraid to move; afraid he would leave her. Legolas saw the fear, but did not understand it, only sensing that he was responsible. He greatly desired to sooth that fear away, and so he kissed her again – soft and brief.

Feia gasped in the air that she had been missing against his mouth, tasting his breath, and then she kissed him in return.

His two hands cupped her face and Legolas slid them back into her hair drawing her deeper into the kiss. But then he felt the lady tremble – this precious woman! She was vulnerable to him. He had no choice. He must protect her from the dark fate looming before him.

And thus far he was failing miserably.

Legolas broke the kiss with startling abruptness, saying, "This must not be!" He was standing now and Feia stared up at him in alarm.

"Legolas!" she began on a shaky breath, but he interrupted her.

"No!" His voice was rough, "This must not be!" and he left her there, not seeing her hand raised in silent entreaty or her mouth open on words that would not come. He left her hugging her knees in the deepening evening, to cry alone by the darkened pool and he did not look back.

XXX

When Legolas at last returned to the camp, the lady was there, but she carefully avoided his eyes. She sat in the firelight with Lady Meghailin's head resting in her lap while she braided beads into the elf maiden's hair. Feia's two beaded braids were back in place, falling over her eye and down to her waist, the rest of her hair was piled atop her head out of her way.

The others acknowledged Legolas's return with muted greetings, for his expression did not invite lighthearted banter. Elrohir offered him a plate of food which he took with a polite, hannon le," _thank you, _but held without touching, while he crouched in the circle of firelight.

Gimli attempted to break the odd silence by asking, "My ladies, since making your acquaintance we have been focused on other matters and so we know little of you or of where you come from. I note that you wear your hair similarly adorned. Do the ornaments have some meaning?"

"They do, good Lord Gimli," Meg responded, observing that Feia seemed disinclined to speak. Her braids finished, Meg sat up fingering the beads. "They are called the Queues Connate and represent our family and our station. On Alderaan, everyone; elf or human, male or female, wore them. Most of us wear them still."

Haldir, who sat beside her, though carefully not touching her, asked, "And what do your beads indicate, my lady?"

Meg smiled at the caressing tone in which he habitually spoke the possessive honorific. Then she responded, "This queue," and she held up the braid closest to her face, indicates my family. The amethyst represents my mother's house, McKiernan. That is also my house, for Alderaani females take their mother's name while male children take their father's. You can tell it is my house because it is the topmost and the bottommost bead. The blue sarnnenmír stones represent my father's house Celduinsén.

Serafé's moonstones represent her house, Naberrie, the carnelian beads are for her father's house, Organa," Meg continued, and then she bravely added, "Were either of us to wed, we would braid two beads from our husband's house into the queue, one just under the topmost bead and one just over the bottommost."

At this Feia's face went still and a hot flush stained her cheeks. She stared at her hands, attempting to disguise the reaction, but Legolas was unable to keep himself from observing her closely and he was aware. He ached – loathing himself for his weakness; for he knew that he was hurting her and yet he knew not how to stop, save by removing himself from her presence. This he could not do until they reached Rivendell.

Not noticing, or perhaps ignoring the undercurrents of tension, Meg continued, "Both of our second queues name us Chosen. The Chosen are those from whom the new king or queen is selected, the rest of the Chosen become the privy council when the heir takes the throne. The Chosen are raised together, and trained together. When we were originally named Chosen, our braids were all of carnelian to show that we served Feia's father, King Bail. But when Feia was named First among the Chosen, and heir to the throne, she interspersed the carnelian beads with mithril beads. As Second among the Chosen, I interspersed the carnelian with both moonstone and mithril. The other Chosen wove moonstones in amongst the carnelian.

Had Feia taken the throne, all the carnelian in our braids would have been replaced with moonstone save Feia's which would have been all of mithril."

Legolas had to ask, "And why did Princess Feia not take the throne?"

Feia answered him in a toneless voice, "While Meg and I, with most of the other Chosen were away from Alderaan receiving training on a world called Earth, the Emperor's minion, Darth Vader, intercepted my elder sister, Leia whilst she was on a mission of great importance to the Rebellion. He tortured her in order to ascertain the location of the hidden base of the Rebel Alliance. But Leia would not break! And so, in an attempt to blackmail her into revealing the information, Darth Vader moved the Death Star into range of Alderaan. The Death Star was a weapon more horrible than you can know!"

Feia paused, considering how best to explain, and then she said, "Imagine, my lord, shooting a flaming arrow into a pile of dried leaves doused with oil. A single bolt shot from the Death Star would have a similar effect on an entire world. Almost three and a half million of my people died without warning in the time it would take for you to knock an arrow and draw. A heartbeat – less! Alderaan no longer exists. I am queen of nothing, my lord," unbidden came the memory of waking with the horrible knowledge that in that instant, countless lives had simply ceased to be. Feia's defenses were fragile with Legolas here, and it took a far greater effort than usual to relegate the memory to the past where it belonged.

As the shadow passed across his lady's lovely face, Legolas longed to comfort her, heartily wishing he had not asked the painful question. Would his every action, every decision, cause her nothing but more pain?

"But that was long ago," Feia continued briskly, "Fortunately, Leia understood that she could not save Alderaan whether she disclosed the whereabouts of the Rebel base or no, for the emperor's quarrel with my father was old; and so she lied to them. Her twin, my elder brother Luke along with Leia's concinnate, Captain Han Solo, and their companions came for her, and together they escaped with the stolen schematics of the Death Star. A weakness in the weapon's defenses was found and Luke, Leia, Han and the Rebels destroyed it so that no other planet would suffer the fate of Alderaan.

We surviving Alderaani, for several thousand were off-planet at the time of the attack, became a rallying point for the Rebellion. I was encouraged by some to declare myself queen in exile, but I refused. I believed my duty was to find places of safety for the remnants of my people where they could begin new lives. Meghailin and the other Chosen agreed with me. Had we tried to create a new Alderaan, we greatly feared that the emperor would actively set upon a course of genocide. As it was, he was killing or imprisoning us wherever and whenever we were found.

But now, Alderaani dwell in Federation territory, in Gwynedd and Naboo – and I must add Middle Earth, for here we are. We never knew it was all part of a grand scheme to bring immortality to the mortal races of the universe until we were well into it. I must say that it is a relief to know that the Powers That Be are nearly finished with us, for it has been a long and trying road."

"I'm sorry, my lady," Gimli said, perplexed, "but grand scheme to do what? Who or what are the Powers That Be?"

Feia was spared from answering by Elessar, who considerately took up the narrative, sharing with their companions the knowledge he had gained during their rapport. When he was finished, the circle around the fire was silent for a time, each pondering for himself all that he had heard.

At last, Elrohir ventured, "My ladies, we have been hard pressed these last days and this talk has given us all much to think on. Tomorrow we will travel speedily toward my father's house, for the woodland elves await our aid. Now is the time to renew our spirits in the company of friends. Earlier, whilst you partook of the privacy of the pool, we did hear afar off the sound of your fair singing. And also, I do note, Lady Meghailin carries with her an instrument of music. Will you not consent to entertain us with a song?"

With the encouragement of all the companions, Meg unpacked her gitar and set about tuning it, but she said, "We shall sing for you, my lords, only if Prince Legolas will eat the meal he has been staring at this hour past; for we are agreed, he and I, that I shall not be required to use my healing skills upon him for at least a full day."

With a fair amount of good grace, Legolas ate, even managing to flash Meg a quick grin for her cheek. And so, Meg filled the hour before the companions took to their blankets with songs they had found in their travels. The elves seemed particularly taken with a song about the oceans of Earth, which rolled like waves, and Feia saw Elrohir attempting to commit it to memory. Gimli laughed heartily at a darkly humorous song that Meg had learnt from a gambler called 'Down at the Bottom of a Well.'

Feia did not join in as she usually might, for her heart was not in it. This was especially true when Meg chose to sing a lovely romantic ballad composed by a fellow cadet at the academy. But Feia noticed that Haldir's eyes were riveted upon Meg and his expression was anything but elvish. Surely the other companions were only being polite by ignoring that which was there for all to see. Haldir and Meg were in love.

When Feia and Meg lay out their bedrolls next to one another later that evening, Feia queried her friend softly. Soon their male companions were privy to a wholly female squeal of delight when Feia cried, "Oh, Meg!" and threw her arms around her sister. Over Meg's shoulder, Feia's eyes sought Haldir who was observing them with amusement and he accepted Feia's beaming approval with a small smile and a nod.

But as Feia released her sister and leaned back again, she saw Legolas watching her and the smile froze and then slid away. She squeezed Meg's hand a final time and bid her sister goodnight, turning her back on the elven prince whose gaze she could still feel upon her.

Legolas saw the unabashed joy fade from his lady's face and he wanted to weep. A month gone he would have wooed this woman with sweet words, courted her with a will, and wed her with promises of forever. But now he was the doomed son of a mad king, and the lady could not be his. Stealing away from the camp, Legolas spent the night at the opening of the hidden path into the glen. He could not have her, but he could protect her. That much he could do.

Chapter 14:

**Storm **

Some days later, the companions passed within a day's ride of the woods of Lothlorien and Haldir said, "I shall go aside and alert the elves at Caras Galadhon of what transpires with our Mirkwood kin, for they will wish to bolster us with what aid they may. I will meet you again along the road."

And to Meg, Haldir spoke quietly, "I would that I could bring you with me, my lady, but I will not have your first experience of Lórien fraught with haste and peril." When Meghailin smiled her understanding, Haldir kissed her fingers quite possessively there in front of all the companions, and if any had a doubt as to the status of their relationship it was, by this act, thoroughly dispelled.

Meg blushed brightly in both pleasure and irritation at Gimli's happy grin when the dwarf addressed Haldir saying, "Have no fear for the safety of your lady, friend Haldir, for I shall guard her more closely than my life." She didn't even have the heart to be angry when Haldir accepted Gimli's vow, with a solemn nod, on her behalf.

After that the companions traveled uneventfully until one day when the sky threatened imminent storms. Elladan returned from their back trail at a gallop with the grim news that orc had managed to stumble upon their trail and followed not very far behind. Meg exclaimed in concern that Haldir would also be following, but Legolas said, "Haldir will see the signs; he will be well. They do not follow Haldir." And then Legolas, his voice shaking with fervency, addressed the king saying, "Elessar, I beg you, take the ladies and return to Gondor."

Lady Serafé's eyes flashed much like the approaching lightning and Cricket danced and whickered fretfully. Feia could not remember ever feeling so furious or so helpless. She wanted to scream at Legolas; she wanted to wrap her arms around him and cry at the ringing hopelessness in his voice. But she had not been trained to be a queen in vain.

Mastering herself was an effort, but when Feia spoke, she said only, "I realize you desire to protect us, my lord, but we are unaccustomed to being told to come and go at another's will. Have we acquitted ourselves so poorly on this journey that you believe we are a danger to ourselves or to your mission?"

Legolas could not look at her – he could not answer her, but his heart was in his voice when he entreated the king, _"Elessar!"_

The king considered carefully before he responded, "I told you, Legolas that your friends would stand with you. I believe both the ladies have proven themselves to be your friends. My liege lady makes a telling point, as well – she is a skilled fighter and Lady Meghailin has a deadly aim and a healing touch. These skills are an asset to us. We would do better were we to remain all together rather than dividing our forces."

Thunder rolled and Legolas snapped on a wave of anger at his friend, "Queen Arwen is also my friend, and she is skilled with a sword and a bow; but your lady is not at risk here!"

The king well knew the stress under which Legolas labored, and so he controlled the ire which rose up in response to the elf's words, saying, "Even though I might wish it so, I have not the authority to keep the queen from danger should she choose it; Arwen has been making that sort of decision for herself since long before I was born. But my lady wife carries our child and neither of us would choose to risk our babe."

At this news of their sister's joy, Elladan grinned broadly and Elrohir barked a joyous laugh. Gimli gave a whoop of celebration. Legolas pressed the heels of his hands hard to his eyes and said, "I am taken by madness!" Then he coaxed Arod close and touched the kings arm, "Please, forgive me Elessar!"

"There is nothing to forgive, Legolas." The king allowed, grasping the elf's hand and his shoulder, adding quietly, "You were right, my lady is not at risk here," and he nodded in Feia's direction.

The king was watching Feia still, when Legolas responded very softly, "I have no claim on the lady." Elessar could hear in his friend's voice and see in the lady's expression that Legolas could as easily have said, "I am not an elf," for it was equally a lie.

Then brightening somewhat, Legolas said, "Your news is glad indeed, my friend. Edhellensén ná andave naharma únótimë nálme úli!" _Elven children are greatly to be treasured, for they are so rare! _

Rain began to descend in great splattering drops and Feia said, "It is indeed a delight to hear such tidings, but I hasten to recall us to our immediate concern. If this rain should persist, we will be unable to outrun our pursuers for fear of foundering the horses. Will we flee, or seek a place to stand?"

"We should stand," called Haldir, his approach having been muffled by the growing noise of the wind and rain. He was drenched, for he had ridden far on the crest of the storm. Meghailin breathed a sigh of relief at sight of him and when he reached her side, he took her hand and squeezed it briefly. "It is one company, and we have been proven against such already. My brother Rúmil leads a band of elves to harry any further pursuit."

"Legolas?" Elessar said, ceding leadership to the elven prince.

"We stand," said the elf.

XXX

It was late afternoon, but dark as a starless night, when they engaged the enemy at the place that they had chosen not far from the banks of the great river Anduin. The wind howled and rain fell in sheets. Visibility was dreadful and lightning descended almost continuously making the brief moments without it all the more blind. It was bitingly cold and the companion's cloaks hung sodden and nearly useless over their drenched clothing.

The orc hung together only loosely, veering off to run and regroup, or to flee at their whim. Feia found herself pursuing, with Elessar and Elladan, a handful of orc that had fled the field. Elladan was afoot while Elessar and Feia rode, but the footing was treacherous for the elf and the horses. When Feia had run down a pair of orc and dispatched them, she found she had become separated from the others and she guided Cricket in a circle, seeking her companions, but saw no sign of them in the torrential rain.

With care, she guided Cricket in the direction from which she believed they had come, but she had been turned around in the storm. When Cricket foundered, Feia thought the mare had stumbled into a hole, but almost immediately she realized that the ground was giving way beneath them faster than the horse could gain her footing.

With a suddenness that took her breath, both she and the horse were down and still sliding – no, falling! Feia felt a painful blow to her thigh. The jolt pushed her into something solid and she grabbed it and held on for all she was worth, wrenching her shoulders badly. Then it was over.

Feia clung to a rock, jutting from an almost vertical bank of some kind. Feeling about with her feet she found another rock to help support her weight and tried to get her bearings. At last she happened to be looking below her when lightning lit the sky nearly as bright as noon and in that moment she saw the rushing Anduin far below. There was no sign of Cricket, and she felt a sharp pang of grief for her faithful horse.

It took little time for Feia to realize she was trapped where she was, with no way to climb either up or down, and so she concentrated on easing her cramped and frozen limbs one by one and prayed that the rain would leave some trace of her passing for her companions to find.

XXX

When Elessar returned to the camp without Feia, Meg was concerned, for she had seen them ride out together. When she asked the king where her sister had gone, he said that Elladan had seen the direction in which Feia had been headed and had gone to find her.

But Elladan returned alone, having discovered no trace of the lady anywhere.

Legolas also had seen Feia ride out with the king and the elf and when he saw them both talking animatedly with Meg, he hurried over in time to hear the elf maiden cry, "I will not leave her!"

The other companions had gathered in as well and Haldir said, "My lady, we must find a dry place to shelter. We will be little good to Lady Feia or to anyone if we are all lost out in this tempest."

Haldir was right, this Legolas knew, for the wind howled in ever worsening gusts so that they were hard pressed to simply stand erect, and their shouted words were torn from their lips. Even the elves had difficulty understanding one another. The elf maid stood defiantly with her hands on her hips, but she was shivering. Haldir began to briskly rubbing her upper arms.

Then Legolas saw Elessar watching him. It might be that this was Legolas's quest, but if he made a choice with his heart in this, the king would not let him get away with it.

"The foothills lie under an hour's ride to the west and south," Legolas said at last, "There they are riddled with caves which Gimli knows well. He will find shelter for you," the elf paused, looking at Meg, a promise in his eyes, "The lady and I will meet you before you reach the Gap."

"Legolas…!" Elessar began, but the elf only looked at him with a flat unblinking stare and the king gave over with a nod.

Elladan showed Legolas where he had lost sight of Feia and offered to assist the prince in his search, but Legolas would not risk any save himself in this. Meg protested that she should remain also, in the event that Feia might require healing, but Haldir would hear none of it. Meg soon found that attempting to overrule him was much like attempting to stop a boulder in an avalanche.

While the other companions turned toward the promise of the sheltering caves, Legolas packed spare blankets in his leather scrip and set out with Arod into the storm.

XXX

The biting wind beat relentlessly at Feia as she hung precariously over the rushing water below. She was cold; so cold she could hardly locate her numbed limbs, but the longing to sleep was the worst peril, for it crept in upon her stealthily. Feia had jerked to awareness just in time to save herself from plummeting to her death more times than she cared to contemplate.

At some point, in her sluggish thoughts an idea formed; a way out came to her. Feia still carried an active gate cube in her pouch; she could open a portal here and now, and step off this embankment onto a warm, dry, completely solid floor in Gwynedd. She could ensure that she lived through this night.

It was a challenge in defiance of death to loose her grip with one arm and seek in her pouch for the cube. Her fingers felt overlarge – clumsy, as she fumbled at the purse's ties. When she had it open it was impossible to find what her questing fingers sought, and so she fisted the contents and pulled it all out. Something fluttered away on the wind, but she ignored it, and in the hopes that her final active cube was in her hand she moved her fist under where her other hand clung and somehow managed the incantation.

The shimmering gate opened in the air, to hover out over the treacherous drop. Feia thought she could summon enough energy to fling herself out and through it, and yet she hesitated.

In her mind Feia heard the voice of the Guild Motivator Nillin, "Choices, Serafé, you must have choices, for that is the heart of freedom."

But every choice has a consequence. Yes, choices are the heart of freedom, but taking responsibility for the consequences of those choices; that is freedom's price. What would the consequence be if Feia left Middle Earth this night? Her companions would, in all likelihood, think her dead. No, not Meg! Feia's sister would try her gate cube. She would seek Feia in Gwynedd and bring her back. Eventually she would.

Feia had chosen to make Middle Earth her home. She had made a commitment to the king of Gondor; sworn an oath. And what might become of Legolas if Feia were to disappear from the planet…for a day? Forever? Uncle Celduin had said that they must both keep their faith. The thought of being separated from her concinnate, possibly for all time, was more chilling than the frigid driving rain. Feia would keep her faith!

Numb with cold, sick with exhaustion, aching all over, Feia took the handful of coins and gate cubes, used and in use, and flung them with all her strength through the open portal. The light seemed to shrink in upon itself and then it was gone, leaving her blind in the pitch black night. That was when the rock upon which her boots were braced gave way beneath her.

For a moment, Feia's feet swung and it required almost everything she had left just to hold on with her arms. Her heart beat frantically and she gasped for breath, half drowning in the deluge of water. Finally, Feia managed to drag in enough air, once, twice. And then the rock upon which she hung shifted suddenly. It was also coming loose.

XXX

Employing every tracking skill he had, pushing his elven senses to the limit, Legolas combed the area around where Feia had last been seen. He wanted nothing more than to run through the storm shouting his lady's name at the top of his voice, but instead, with painstaking slowness, he made an ever-widening spiral from his starting point, hugging the ground and leading Arod. The earth was not giving up many secrets tonight.

At long last, a hoof print, a single shallow print of a horse of Cricket's size and weight, filled with water gave him a direction. The corpses of two orc confirmed it was the right one. But from thence, where?

Legolas made another slow spiral from this point, through trees and brush, pelted by rain and buffeted by wind. And then he saw a bright glow, as if the moon had fallen through the dense clouds and plunged to the earth. A beacon for him to follow? A miracle of the Valar?

Praying that it was so, Legolas followed the glow with all the speed he could manage in the treacherous gale. When he saw the fresh earth of the disintegrated bank, his heart began to hammer painfully in his chest. The light shone up over the edge, bold and clear, but Legolas could not safely approach the precipice. He scrambled back from the crumbling earth, searching for an anchor, and found it in the form of a deeply embedded boulder where the ground still held true.

Dispensing with his quiver and bow, his sword and his cloak, Legolas was as prepared as he could be. Hithlain rope from his pack made a safe road for the elf. He did not hesitate, but hastened to the very edge, peering down into the gloom where the sheet of light shimmered in the air; and he saw her in its glow. He saw her where she clung, so high above the Anduin below them and he watched as she tossed small objects from her hand out into space, where they disappeared into the light. And then the light was gone.

Legolas squeezed his eyes shut to speed the return of his night vision. He did not wait for it, but began his descent at once, for he had fixed his lady's location, and he could find her blind.

When the elf reached Feia's side he was only just in time to see the rock she clung to slide from the earth. He caught her one-armed as she fell and held her tight against his body while he steadied them. Feia flung her arms around his middle and froze so that she would not unsettle them further. _The woman keeps her good sense, praise Elbereth. _

"Are you injured?" Legolas shouted above the raging wind. "Can you climb onto my back?"

Feia was frozen and her limbs felt weak and shaky, but she yelled back, "I will try!" Legolas strained, lifting her as she attempted to reach his shoulders, eventually she hung on his back with her arms about his neck. "Hold on!" Legolas called, "If you feel your grip sliding yell, 'stop!' Are you ready?"

"Noro!" _Go!_ Feia responded and Legolas began to climb steadily upward. Feia gritted her teeth and held on, her position pressed her face tight against the side of Legolas's neck and she closed her eyes, trying to imagine that there was no deadly drop beneath them.

When they reached the top of the embankment, Legolas instructed, "Try to climb up my back and take hold of the rope. Keep going until you reach the boulder where it is tied. Do not let go of the rope!"

Feia remembered a tumbling act that she had once seen on Coruscant. The women had used their larger male partners as ladders and platforms for any number of amazing feats. If Feia placed her feet carefully and shifted her weight slowly, she knew it could be done. On the other hand, those tumblers had not been half frozen, hanging off the side of a cliff in the driving rain and wind.

Slowly, ever so slowly and carefully, Feia guided her left foot to Legolas's hip with her left hand. Then she clung around his neck with that arm while using her right hand to guide her right foot to his other hip. She reached up to the rope with her right hand and pulled while pushing with her feet. When she was almost standing, she reached for the rope above the precipice with her other hand and pulled again, slowly lifting a knee to the elf's shoulder. The other knee followed, and then one foot, and then the other and she was over.

Feia had a hold of the rope, but her strength seemed to have evaporated. She knew that she must clear the way for Legolas, but she could not seem to rise and walk – and so she crawled. One painful inch at a time she crept toward the boulder. Then Legolas was at her side, gripping the rope above her hands with one hand and half dragging her along with an arm around her waist. When they reached the boulder, they collapsed against it together.

Trembling violently in aftershock, Feia buried her face in Legolas's tunic, her hands fisted in the fabric. The elf, for his part, clung to her as if he could not hold her tightly enough. He pressed his lips to the top of her head and squeezed shut his eyes, murmuring words of comfort that the storm stole away.

Chapter 15:

**Refuge **

Gradually Feia recovered sufficiently to recall that she was freezing. The only part of her that retained any heat at all was her face, framed as it was on one side by Legolas's long fingers and pressed against his heart on the other. She shifted enough to peer up at him through her bedraggled hair. He was watching her.

As soon as the lady exhibited signs of revival, Legolas said, "We are not yet out of this, my lady," Easing away from her, the elf re-armed himself, reclaimed his rope, and then helped the lady to her feet. He wrapped the Lórien cloak about her; for, sodden as it was, it would yet afford her some warmth.

Then Legolas marked, flattened to the boulder by the wind, a much-folded square of parchment with a red wax seal. Surely it was the letter his lady had received from Kelson of Gwynedd. Stooping, he retrieved the missive thoughtfully and slid it under the flap of his scrip before setting Feia upon Arod's broad back. Then he pulled himself onto the animal behind her and they set out as speedily as he could manage in the storm.

Legolas knew of no sanctuary save the caves toward which he had directed their friends, but he was worried for his lady who looked to have reached the end of her not inconsiderable endurance. She drowsed in her seat before him, seeming half in a dream and Legolas was disturbed at how she trembled from cold and fatigue. He must reach the caves without delay.

With an enormous amount of good fortune, they would discover signs of the others to follow. If they were able rejoin their friends then Lady Meghailin could aid her sister. And perhaps, if there was fuel dry enough to burn, there might also be the blessing of a fire.

In this, however, luck was not with them, for the elf detected no evidence of their companions.

At the first cave that appeared of a size to shelter in, Legolas halted, and assisted Feia to dismount. This sufficed to waken her from her somnolent state, so that when he lifted her into his arms in order to convey her to the safety of the cave, she protested saying, "My lord, I am uninjured. I can walk."

When he did not respond and only held her the tighter to his chest Feia queried, "Legolas?" But still he did not put her down, nor did he speak. How could he explain that he could as easily have torn out his own heart as let her go?

Stooping to peer in at the small cave entrance, Legolas attempted to see that it was clear of animals inside, though he did not sense any danger from within. As he paused the lady in his arms cupped her palm in front of her and a sphere of amber light appeared over it. Then she made a shooing motion and it scooted away from her and into the cave.

"You are a witch!" Legolas exclaimed in surprise.

Feia laughed, though the usually ringing sound of her mirth was fragile and shaky with cold. Her teeth persisted in knocking together as she answered, "Nay, my lord, it is not magic. You could do the same if instructed in the way it is done, as I was. Someday I will show you." And then she mused, "I wonder what color yours will be? Green? Blue like Meg's?"

The glowing sphere revealed a chamber with a depth of perhaps two spans. At its widest it was no more than Legolas's height. At its highest point it was just tall enough for Feia to stand upright. It was unoccupied.

After setting Feia gently on the cavern floor, Legolas disappeared into the rain, returning quickly with his scrip, from which he produced a blanket. He pressed it into her hands saying, "You must remove your wet clothing, my lady." Then he went back out again, presumably to care for Arod, but also to grant her privacy.

It was a difficult business unlacing the bodice of her long over-tunic. Feia's fingers felt ungainly! But at last she managed it. Then she yanked off her sodden boots and peeled off her leggings, causing her battered body, particularly her bruised thigh, to protest the ill treatment. Leaving her shirt and underclothing, she wrapped the blanket around her and awkwardly spread her other wet things out flat along the rock wall.

When Legolas returned he cast a brief glance at the clothing she had lain out and then turned abruptly away, busying himself with their gear. "What of you, my lord?" Feia asked. "Even an elf must feel the effects of this cold!"

Legolas stooped to the scrip and removed a second blanket, his expression oddly troubled, "Yes, I must also get dry," he whispered. Then he crouched with his back to her facing the cave's mouth and began unlacing his garments. Feia turned politely toward the rear of the cave.

At length the elf's low voice murmured, "My lady?" For some reason Feia felt breathless when she responded, "Yes?"

Wrapped now in his blanket, the elf came and knelt at her side, touching her face, and then her hand where it clutched her blanket closed – gauging how cold she was. Reaching behind him to the scrip, he retrieved the third blanket he had brought and shook it out.

"My lady," Legolas began again, focusing on the cave floor, "I have to get you warm." Then he looked up steadily into her eyes and said, "We must get warm, Feia."

Feia searched his face until understanding came, at which point she managed a small nod. Reaching out toward the hovering handfire, the lady closed her fingers. As the light gradually died, Legolas lay himself down beside her, drawing her near and arranging the third blanket over them

"I think it will be silver," Feia said into the darkness.

"What will be silver, my lady?" Legolas asked as he started to rub warmth into her arms with his hands. His voice was low and soft and very rough.

"Your hand-fire," the lady answered softly, "When you have seen how, I think your hand-fire will be silver."

Legolas did not respond, but moved his hands along her back. Feia's hands were trapped between the two of them, and she slid them up to his shoulders. Finally she whispered, shakily, "You came for me."

His hand was on her thigh now, briskly rubbing up and down and Feia hissed a breath in pain. Legolas froze, "I thought you were uninjured," he accused. But already he was accessing his healing gift, minimal as it was, and circulation quickened in her bruised muscles.

"I think Cricket kicked me," she said, her voice unable to disguise her grief at the loss of her horse. "As we fell…she saved my life. I am sure I was in free-fall when it happened, and she pushed me back against the embankment where I grabbed onto the rocks." Feia trailed off, thinking about how close she had come to death this night.

Legolas was thinking much the same thing, and just like that the pieces started to click into place in his mind. He recalled the parchment bearing the seal of the king of Gwynedd. The lady had come by magic from another world, and had returned there by magic to fetch Lady Meghailin to aid him.

Feia felt Legolas stiffen against her and draw slightly away. "The light!" he said gruffly. "The light that drew me to you was a magic doorway to Gwynedd! You could have saved yourself, but you _closed_ it!" Legolas was breathing hard; he was shocked, confused…furious! _Why?_ Why had she not used the gate? She had been a breath away from death. If he had been one minute longer in reaching her…one _second_ longer! "Why, my lady?" he rasped, gripping her upper arm and giving her a shake, "Tell me why!"

Feia sighed. She would tell him, but she did not think that he would understand. "I was given four gateway cubes by a sorcerer who was disposed toward assisting me. Meg carries one; the cube I used tonight was my last. I opened the gate in order to save myself, yes, but then I began thinking about choices and responsibility, freedom and consequences; I started thinking about faith. I was free to choose to use the Gate to ensure that I lived, but the act would have consequences for which I would be responsible.

"I have made a commitment to make Middle Earth my home. I have sworn an oath to the king of Gondor. I have found my concinnate. Had I left Middle Earth via a gate this night, the act would have been a denial of faith. I do not know what the consequences may have been had I left. In the moment after I made the choice to close the gate, I feared the consequence of that choice would be death. I was prepared to accept that. But you came for me. I am alive."

Legolas's response, forced between clenched teeth, sounded tormented, "By a heartbeat! By a breath, you live! You could not have known I was there, or that I was coming. It was a reckless choice, lady!"

"I do not see it so."

Then something else leapt into Legolas's anguished mind and he muttered, "Edainriel nae Fennas – Tarcaita aberethië tarcaita!"

_Lady of the Gates?_ Feia wondered at this form of address briefly and then her back stiffened and her voice went stony, "I have never lied to you, my lord, and I am most certainly not married."

Legolas ignored her words. "Would you deny the elves Valinor, my lady?" He asked briskly.

_Was the elf losing his mind?_ "I have neither the power nor the desire to deny the elves anything, my lord!" and then she paused and said quietly, "I think perhaps the Powers That Be hope the elves will not choose Valinor, but they are advocates of freedom. They would never take that choice away." It was so strange, lying here in the darkness wrapped in Legolas's arms, discussing the choices of the elves!

Legolas seemed to be thinking very fast. "My father said that I would join myself to a woman who would deny the elves Valinor. In his ranting he said, 'Edainriel nae fennas – Tarcaita aberethië tarcaita.' He must have meant you. 'Liar and wife of one who lies!' He meant both of us!"

"I do not mean to offend, my lord, or to cause you more grief, but your father tortured you; he tried to kill you!" Feia said, "He is gone mad, surely!" and then she added, "And unless I missed something important, which I doubt, I am not your wife."

With a suddenness that stopped her heart, Legolas drew her tight against him until his mouth was just beside her ear, "And how long do you imagine I will wait to make you my wife, Orenya?" _My heart?_ his deep voice crooned. "Would you not have me for your husband? Would you stop me?"

Feia found that she could make no response to that and later, with the wind wailing and the rain pounding outside of their sheltering cave Feia became Legolas's wife. She did not try to stop him. In fact, she made not the slightest protest.

XXX

By dawn the terrible tempest was spent and all was quiet outside of their shelter. Legolas reclined with his back against his leather scrip, lost in thought and mindlessly running his fingers through his lady's tangled hair. Feia slept with her head resting on his stomach, one arm wrapped around his waist, her pale shoulder peeking out of the blankets. She was a mess. She was so beautiful. She was his wife.

Legolas tried not to consider how much he would come to regret the weakness that had made that possible. She was his. He loved her.

He would bring her only grief.

Legolas curled an arm around his lady, unconsciously trying to protect her. But he could never protect her from himself.

It was a measure of his turmoil – his inner disquiet, that Legolas neither sensed nor heard any warning of someone approaching until he caught his name whispered on a breath. He turned toward the sound calmly, for only another elf could have approached so closely, however preoccupied Legolas might be.

Elrohir crouched at the cave's opening, politely addressing the air several handspans above Legolas's head. In quick succession, using a scout's silent communication, he tapped his arm with a finger thrice and then he pointed. Briefly he locked eyes with the elven prince, who nodded once; and then he was gone as silently as he had come.

Laying his fingers lightly on Feia's cheek, Legolas said, "Wake, my lady." As she stirred he leaned down and kissed her brow murmuring, "Wake, Orenya."

Feia woke, but she only raised herself up far enough to settle against his shoulder and nuzzle his neck with her nose. Legolas wrapped his arms more tightly around her, and said, "Our companion's camp lies about three leagues to the south and west."

Feia tilted her head back to look at him in some surprise. "I know you have not been scouting, my lord," she said quizzically, "for I would remember it, had you left me."

"It was Elrohir who did the scouting, not I." Legolas answered.

But still, Feia thought, had Legolas heard Elrohir approach, he would have met the other elf outside of the cave. And had Legolas stirred from her side, she would have known. Unless Legolas had not heard the other elf approaching!

To Legolas's surprise, Feia giggled. "You are much distracted, edhel nin," _my elf,_ she teased, "to have allowed Lord Elrohir to sneak up on you, thus!"

There was really nothing for it but to silence the saucy woman's mirth against his mouth; and so it was some time later that the two made ready to rendezvous with the friends who awaited them.


	4. Summerland Chapters 16 to 23

**Naeore Laerien** (Summerland of the Heart)

Chapter 16:

**The Guild of Messengers **

It was desperately uncomfortable donning her still damp, mud encrusted clothing, and hunger gnawed at her empty belly, but Feia was wed to her concinnate, and that went a long way toward making even these discomforts fade into the back of her awareness. And in the chill air, remembering how her marriage was accomplished went a long way toward warming her.

It was unexpected to feel so absurdly happy in the middle of this mad adventure – so strange to have her worries and her joys residing so closely together. But Feia had learned long ago to accept and savor the gifts that the universe provided whenever they were offered. She had found her harmonious match, and so had Meg. It was unfortunate that their family could not know this joy had come to them at last.

_Or could they? _

Legolas had also drawn on his damp garments and was busying himself readying Arod, who had spent the night sheltered as much as possible in the cleft between the rocky hill and a fall of boulders nearby the cave. When he led the horse to where his lady waited, Legolas moved as if to assist her in mounting, but Feia said, "Wait, my lord! It has just occurred to me that I have the means to provide a very special wedding gift for my sister."

The elf raised a brow in query, but the lady stepped away from him and addressed the empty air, "I have a message. I will pay the price. I will keep the accord of The Guild of Messengers." There was a pause of several heartbeats in which nothing whatsoever happened, but then a beam of bright red light seemed to descend from as high as the sun to coalesce into a shape almost discernable as a person, but in no way identifiable. Then a second beam descended and a second form stood a little behind and to the right of the first.

"And this also is not magic, I presume," Legolas said softly at Feia's ear. His stance was quite relaxed, but his bow seemed to have materialized in his hand.

"Oh, it is – of a sort!" the lady laughed, "but it is not _my_ magic."

And then from the figure in front, a voice that sounded like a chorus of voices, male and female of every age and race said, "We are The Guild." There was no emotion in the voice at all. Feia bowed to the shapes before her and said formally, "I, Serafé Organa Naberrie of Al…" Pausing, Feia glanced at Legolas and her expression softened, "of _Middle Earth_, offer welcome to The Guild. Such hospitality as I have to give is yours for as long as you should wish it."

There was no way of telling where the beings might be looking, but Legolas had the impression that the foremost one glanced at the tiny cave, "Not particularly tempting, Lady Serafé of Middle Earth. The Guild declines. Speak your message."

"The Lady Meghailin Celduinsén McKeirnan of Alderaan shall wed her Concinnate, Lord Haldir of Lórien in a few day's time at Rivendell," Feia said, "I should like for her brother to know so that he may attend if he is able. I am willing to pay the price."

From the foremost figure the chorus of voices intoned, "For this message there is no price. The accord has been honored. The Guild shall carry your message." Legolas tilted his head, for oddly, though there was no detectable change in the voices, the elf was able to sense delight and even affection.

And then in the same multiple voices, the rearmost figure asked, "Lady Serafé of Middle Earth, who is this other?"

Legolas was surprised when Feia only grinned happily, bouncing once on her toes, and answered, "Family!"

The two figures seemed to shimmer, and then standing before them were an elf and a man dressed in identical gray and black uniforms. The elf was tall; his light hair cut short saving only two Queues Connate which hung over an ear and down his back. His pale blue eyes were alight with joy. The man was shorter and darker, curly hair hanging loose to his shoulders. Queues Connate fell over an eye the color of molasses that held a glint of wry amusement. And in the moment that Legolas had to assess them, they surged forward. First one hugged Feia, and then the other pulled her away from the first to also envelope her in his embrace.

Legolas watched them all with narrowed eyes as Feia laughed, "I hoped that it would be you!"

"We will always come when you call, your highness, if we are able," the elf said with a bow that seemed a bit after the fact to Legolas's way of thinking.

"Truthfully, we were searching for you, and you have just made it easy for us," the man said, "Filip engaged The Guild to discover your whereabouts. He is furious, Feia!"

"Truly? Whatever for?" Feia asked innocently. Then she laughed again saying, "I hope you made him pay!"

The man grinned broadly and said, "I made him give me the schematics for the latest flier improvements he has made."

"That would explain why he is furious," Feia said. Then, at last, she made the introductions, "Prince Zak Renné Organa and Lord Derek McKiernan Celduinsén, both of The Guild of Messengers, may I introduce Prince Legolas of the Woodland Realm of Middle Earth."

"Legolas!" Derek cried, "You are joking, surely! Legolas?!" Legolas's brows knit together in consternation.

"I have said it!" Feia responded quellingly.

"But Feia, surely you recall…" Derek pressed.

But Feia interrupted him with a raised hand. "Do not make me rank you, Chosen!" Derek appeared unphased by Feia's tone, but he subsided nonetheless, much to Legolas's discontent.

Then to Legolas she said, "My lord, this is my half-brother Zak and my brother-in-law, Meg's twin, Derek." And then she added, "Guild members are not permitted to reveal their identities save to family."

The two elves and the man exchanged formal greetings, but when Zak gripped Legolas's hand he retained it a trifle longer than the gesture required and said, his face deadly serious, "You and my sister are concinnati."

"Yes, I am aware of that," Legolas said, adding, "and we are wed."

"All right, then," Zak said with a slight smile, releasing the elf.

Derek looked Feia up and down and said, "Dearheart, you look dreadful!"

Feia quickly told them a condensed version of all that had transpired since her vision of her father and subsequent arrival on Middle Earth. And then she said, "But we are Alderaani, my brothers, when the universe hands us joy amidst grief and turmoil, we have learnt to embrace it. Will you come to Rivendell?"

"We will come," said Derek, "But do you not yet have a gate cube?"

"We have the one which your sister carries," Feia answered.

"And you are both determined to make Middle Earth your home?" the elf asked.

Feia crossed her arms, "We are!" she responded. "What are you getting at, Derek?"

"Well," her brother-in-law said, "If all those in the family able to meet in Rhemuth during the next few days were to do so, then you could open a gate, and Meggie would have a festive wedding indeed!"

Feia grinned broadly and impulsively hugged the elf.

"Not to put a damper on your happy news or to undervalue the plans for Meghailin's special day," Zak said seriously, rubbing his chin in a habitual gesture reminiscent of King Bail, "but Derek and I should go early to Rivendell bearing the message of the prince requesting aid for his people. Surely the elves of Rivendell shall require time to prepare – time the woodland elves may have little enough of." Then, trying to lighten the mood that had plummeted at his words, he added mischievously, "No additional cost!"

Feia looked at her husband, thunderstruck. "Oh, my lord!" she cried, "Forgive me! The Guild carries messages over great distances – across galaxies! It never occurred to me that they might also carry messages from one place to another on Middle Earth."

Derek shook his head, "It is not normally done, so there is no reason the option should have occurred to you, your highness. Most worlds where The Guild is known have other means of sending messages. Do not berate yourself, Serafé! You know everything happens as it aught. Aid will come to the Mirkwood elves in time."

Legolas put an arm about his wife's shoulders, "These extra days for Lord Elrond to prepare will be a valuable aid to us. Our party must still travel to Imladris by conventional means, for we will require greater numbers in order to break through to the assistance of my people. Now our wait at the house of Elrond will be shortened." Speaking the words seem to ease some of the tension the elf had been carrying.

They went over the message Legolas would have them bring to Lord Elrond and then there were brief farewells; for they would all meet again soon.

In parting, Zak said, "At least the debate over Haldir's fate can at last be put to rest. I believe Filip owes you twenty chits, Derek, for indeed, 'Haldir Lives'."

"I told everyone that it was cinematic license, not channeling!" Derek said smugly, and then to Feia he added, "Someday you must show the Fellowship their motion picture counterparts and see how they feel about it, Serafé."

In an overly dramatic voice, Feia accused, "Were you paying attention at the academy? Do you not recall the Prime Directive? I hardly call premiering ancient Earth cinema on Middle Earth non-interference!"

Zak gave a whoop of laughter. Nearly incapable of speech, he spluttered, "This from _her!"_ Then the man seemed to dissolve into light and a red beam shot into the sky carrying him away.

Derek's face altered from mirth to gravity and he bowed formally to Legolas, saying, "Enna Hen na adanya, e amarth na eriel nánen máiëlyë. Nai elyë ná veronwë estel nin! Námarië!" _On my father's Vision, the fate of the lady is in your hand. I pray you are steadfast in faith! Farewell! _

Another great shaft of light carried away the second Guild Messenger leaving his words to hang in the still and silent morning.

Legolas was nonplussed by his encounter with The Guild, and disturbed by Derek's warning, but he wasted no time brooding over it for the time being. Helping Feia to mount Arod he asked, "Who is Filip?"

Feia had been frowning thoughtfully at the parting words of her brother-in-law to her husband – words that Derek did not know that she would understand. Legolas's question nudged at her humor, however, and she smiled. "Who is Filip?" she repeated. "After all that you have just seen and heard, this is your only question?"

"Not at all!" Legolas flashed his teeth in a grin before leaping gracefully to sit behind her on Arod. Then he continued, wrapping a proprietary arm around her waist, "I also would know more of The Guild of Messengers. What is a flier? Why was there a debate regarding Haldir's fate? What is meant by, 'motion picture counterparts' of the Fellowship? What is the Prime Directive? And most especially I should like to know why my name caused the reaction it did and why you were disconcerted by it, Orenya. But we can begin with: who is Filip?"

Feia could not give over smiling; it was beginning to make her cheeks ache. She responded to her husband's queries with good grace as they rode together, explaining, "Filip is my twin brother. He is a Starfleet pilot on board the USS Vision Quest. They have been on an extended mission, and so I have not seen him in over a year. I left him a message informing him that I would be leaving Gwynedd, but I failed to mention exactly where I would be going. Filip, well, he tends a bit toward the reckless! It is something in the basic makeup of pilots, I deem. I did not wish him to get himself assimilated trying to find me."

It took all three leagues, ridden at a walk, to give Legolas the barest of answers to his questions, and Feia was sure they only gave the elf more questions to ponder. She resolved to share her memories with her husband at the first opportunity, for she feared that she would talk her tongue dry for many years otherwise, and he would still have questions.

"As to the unusual reaction to your name, edhel nin," Feia finished as they came in sight of their companions camp, "I shall ask that you get that story from Meghailin, for she would never forgive me if I did not allow her the pleasure!"

Chapter 17:

**A Treasure to be Shared **

The camp was situated before the mouth of a largish cave. Here the companions had waited out the storm and here Legolas and Feia were reunited with them. Meghailin flew from where she had been pacing to throw her arms about her sister in an embrace that nearly bowled Feia over before she was well off Arod's back. Meg exclaimed over Feia's unkempt state, shed a tear for loyal Cricket, and briskly ushered her friend toward the cave.

"Thank the Light!" Meg kept repeating, then, "and thank you, my lord," which Legolas acknowledged with a slightly uncomfortable bow.

When they were well into the privacy of the cave, Meg said to Feia, "You look frightful. Let's get you changed into some of my spare clothing, for I pronounce these unwearable!" Then she proceeded to assist Feia with the mud-stiffened laces.

Meg fetched a pan of water heated over the fire for washing, pulled a comb through her sister's tangled hair, and healed the last of Feia's strains and bruises. Then, without preamble, Meg said, "Need I have a conversation with an elf of our acquaintance? Rather more happened last night than a tumble from your horse."

Feia hugged herself, going crimson, "We are wed, Meggie!" she said, "The customs of the elves here are more similar to Alderaan than we guessed. Marriage is a matter of intention, agreement, and consummation. A ceremony a celebration of the event – a formality."

"Then what under the Light am I waiting until Rivendell for?" Meg complained.

"I must surmise that some elves are more formal than others," Feia said trying unsuccessfully to keep her mirth hidden. When Meg glared a thunderhead at her however, she gave over, "Haldir can hardly carry you off whilst we are all traveling together, now can he? I do not suggest you try my method of gaining time alone with him, for much of it was quite unpleasant."

"Still," Meg said, consideringly, "perhaps something slightly less lethal than falling off a cliff can be arranged."

Feia laughed, "Meg, you mustn't! I have had a conversation with certain of The Guild this morning. Your brother would never forgive you if you ruin his opportunity to see you as happy as he."

"The Guild!" Meg cried, "I am a fool! Why did I not think of that?" She hugged Feia again, happily.

XXX

When the ladies emerged from the cave, Legolas said, "We would reach the Gap of Rohan too late to begin the crossing were we to set out now. Let us make an early start on the morrow. By the grace of my lady, we have been granted some time."

And so Legolas explained the gift of the Guild and the companions settled in to remain at the sanctuary of the cave for another night. A wholesome lunch was prepared then, completing Feia's recovery from her ordeal.

After eating, Legolas announced that he would scout, to which Elrohir responded innocently, "Naitar náui na hen a llaw," _"_norouva vemaecil dilme nalo torog!" _It would be better for one to go who is able to see and hear in order to prevent us being overrun by an army of Trolls! _

Feia burst out with a delighted laugh, and Elrohir's smile spread.

Legolas strode away from the camp, but over his shoulder he tossed them both a roguish grin that arrested the laughter in Feia's throat.

"Light!" Meg said from her sister's side, "Who knew that our fine elven prince had that bit of weaponry in his arsenal?"

"Mmm," was all Feia could manage.

When the elf returned with no news of pursuit, everyone relaxed at the opportunity to spend an evening in good company. Legolas sat unabashedly at Feia's side and held her hand on his knee. There was almost nothing he could have done to please her more.

Meg was called upon for entertainment. Requests were made to repeat the songs that she had played before, and this time the companions joined in. The elven voices, Elessar's soft baritone and Gimli's gruff but pleasant bass wove easily in and out of the music. Elrohir had indeed memorized the sea chantey, for he missed not a word or a note, effortlessly harmonizing with the melody.

When Meg good-naturedly begged for a break some time later, Legolas took his opportunity to ask the question that Feia had put him off of earlier. "My lady Meghailin, when I met your brother, he seemed quite surprised at mention of my name. He lead me to believe that there was some significant reason that Lady Feia should remember it." Tilting his head, Legolas continued, "My lady indicated you might prefer to be the one to tell me what that reason may be."

"Indeed?" Meg said grinning as though she had filched the last cake, "I must admit I am astonished she is willing for you to be told at all!"

Feia ducked to hide a blush, saying, "I can hardly keep it from him now that Derek has said so much. Believe me; I shall deal with your brother appropriately at the first opportunity."

"Now you have us all curious, dear ladies!" Gimli said, "Please! Share the story which has already brought a rosy glow to our Princess Feia's fair cheek!"

"Happily, I will!" said Meg, "It all began when Feia and her twin had their eighth birthday and King Bail informed them that it was time to move into separate apartments. Feia was, shall we say, strongly opposed to this change in circumstance. She had a tendency to be remarkably inflexible in those days."

"Did she?" Elessar said drolly. "The lady has become the soul of accommodation since."

Gimli snorted, and covered it with a cough.

The lady in question feigned a scowl and then grinned, but Meg kept her expression smoothly benign and continued, "After she realized that neither her temper, nor her reason would get her anywhere, Feia was reduced to tears. And so it was that my father took pity upon her. He went aside with Filip and imparted a scheme that appealed very much to our young prince.

"But when Filip suddenly came down in favor of separate rooms, Feia felt dreadfully betrayed, for he had not told her what he was planning with my father. She would not speak with him the entire day whilst all of his things were carried into the adjacent rooms.

"Feia was not inclined to remain alone that night, and so I stayed with her. But as we were making ready for bed there came a knocking on the headboard. The wood slid back to reveal Filip, Derek and my father with their heads close together peering through that little opening. For years we thought that our cubbyhole was a secret between us children and my father. We girls would gather in Feia's room, with the boys in Filip's and we would talk and laugh half the night sometimes. I think it was ten years before we realized King Bail had known of it all along."

Then Legolas interjected, "A charming tale, lady, but I fail to understand how it applies to my question."

"Ahhh, you see I am getting to that!" Meg said dramatically, "There was another bit of intervention by my father on that significant eighth birthday! He had just returned from a diplomatic visit to the Federation. Whilst there, he set about acquiring a book to bring back as a gift for Feia who could never have enough books. In his search, my father happened upon a set of four he was sure she would covet, by a man named Tolkien. The first was called, The Hobbit, being the story of a gentleman Hobbit harried by a wizard into adventuring with a band of dwarves. The other three were a trilogy called, 'The Lord of the Rings,' singularly titled, The Fellowship of the Ring, The Two Towers, and The Return of the King."

Meg paused dramatically to allow this information to be thoroughly appreciated. Though Elessar had advised the companions that their story had been recorded before it had happened, hearing it discussed in this way was still a bit of a revelation for them. There was much incredulity.

And so her audience was listening avidly when Meg continued, "Now it took Feia only a chapter or two to realize that these stories are a treasure to be shared, and so she began reading them aloud to Filip through the cubbyhole each night. It was all the two ever spoke of during the days, and so Derek and I, and then Zak and his twin Kadiya, our friend Cyrana and even Serafé's older sister Leia were each drawn in – gathering in Filip and Feia's rooms in the evening so that Feia could read to us.

"Of course we all believed that the stories were fictitious – and at that time the events depicted in most of them had not yet taken place. Nevertheless there was something remarkably compelling about them.

"As the years passed, we did some investigation and discovered that 'The Lord of the Rings' is the most loved tale in Earth's history. It continues to be appreciated throughout the universe, though most people have no idea that it has actually happened, or where!"

Meg paused to relish the moment, "And now, to finally answer your question, Prince Legolas!" she said smiling at Feia's hopelessly discomfited expression. "We badgered Feia into read the books through perhaps two dozen times between her eighth birthday and her sixteenth at which time we were sent to the academy. Filip, Derek, and Zak wanted to hear all about the battles and the frightening events, while we girls rhapsodized about Rivendell and Lórien, the Lady Galadriel, Queen Arwen and brave Eowyn of the Mark who became princess of Ithilien. Tolkien didn't say nearly enough to satisfy us, and so we spent long hours speculating.

"The boys were as enchanted as we were, but that did not hinder them from teasing us without mercy. One day Filip said to Feia, 'You will not be satisfied until Prince Legolas himself walks through your door!' and Feia answered, 'If Legolas walks through my door, I shall go with him to Middle Earth and never return.' And oh, after that! How those dreadful boys could use the mere mention of your name, my lord, to make Feia blush and stammer!

"And yet, as I recall, dear sister," Feia said, carefully not making eye contact with her husband, "after that admittedly regrettable pronouncement, you were heard to say, 'If you go to Middle Earth, Serafé, take me with you and I shall go to dwell in Lothlorien where I could then happily die.'"

"I fervently pray that you shall not die in Lórien, bereth nin," said Haldir indulgently.

"Yes, well, perhaps I shall be happier if I do not die, but I have proven to be quite correct in my girlhood ambition, have I not?" Meg said smugly as Haldir laughed rich and deep. Then mischievously, Meg said, "I do hope that I am present when you introduce Prince Legolas to your twin, Feia, for the expression on Filip's face will be a sight not to be missed!"

Legolas gently touched the red flush on Feia's cheek with a knuckle. "Alas!" he said, his roguish grin much in evidence, "the answer to my question has only brought many more to my mind! For instance, what could these books have said about me that would inspire such thoughts in a young and beautiful princess?"

"You can see for yourself, my lord," Meg said, as she rummaged through her satchel. Withdrawing a box she passed it to Legolas, saying, "Feia customarily goes nowhere without these, but she left them with me for safe-keeping until she should have occasion to explain matters to the king."

Legolas pulled out the volumes, passing three of them to Gimli and keeping the one titled, The Fellowship of the Ring. He held it somewhat as if he feared it might come alive and turn on him, before opening it at random and exclaiming abruptly, "Haldir, you are here mentioned, listen: 'How many are you?' say you, and I answer, 'Eight, myself, four hobbits; and two men, one of whom, Aragorn, is an Elf-friend of the folk of Westernesse.'1 And here you respond just as I recall, 'The name of Aragorn son of Arathorn is known in Lórien, and he has the favour of the Lady. All then is well. But you have yet spoken only of seven.'2" And then I reveal to you the unpleasant news that the eighth was good Gimli here, and you nearly send us on our way. It happened just so." He closed the book with a look of wonder shining in his eyes.

The companions spent a good while passing the books about and exclaiming over one thing and another. At one point Elessar gave an appreciative chuckle and shared from the book which he held, "Here is an indication of how Frodo felt about me on first meeting, 'you have frightened me several times tonight, but not in the way that servants of the Enemy would, or so I imagine. I think one of his spies would – well, seem fairer and feel fouler, if you understand.'3"

Elessar gave a snort, saying, "I am fortunate that, though I look foul, I feel fair, else I would have failed to win the hobbits over." Then he said seriously, "My ladies, there is every indication that these accounts are entirely accurate. It is…disconcerting."

Feia answered, "I have been perpetually disconcerted since I stumbled upon the first of many true 'fantasy' stories – and I assure you there have been _many._ But we seem to be finishing where we began so long ago – with Middle Earth. I suppose it is rather poetic, in truth."

"Ships that travel amongst the stars, weapons that can destroy an entire world, and stories written down for entertainment which later become reality far from where they were recorded," Elessar said, "You have traveled a vast labyrinth of paradox, mystery and wonder, my ladies. If it is poetry, it is epic in nature."

And with that, Elessar stood and bowed to them with his hand to his heart in elven fashion, but he did not speak again, only moving to prepare his blankets for the night.

The companions followed his example, keeping their silence, else pitching their voices low so as not to lift the spell. Legolas was last to stir from where he sat staring into the flames of the fire, the light of it flickering in the depths of his eyes. Feia was surprised when the elf laid out a blanket beside her and gathered her against his side, but each time she woke in the night it was to find him wakeful. He lay with his arm around her, absently fingering the beads in her hair and staring straight up into the sky as if in the stars he might divine a more hopeful future. When the sun woke her at dawn, Legolas had gone to scout.

1. & 2. Chapter 6: "Lothlorien" The Fellowship of the Ring, by J.R.R. Tolkien

3. Chapter 10: "Strider" The Fellowship of the Ring, by J.R.R. Tolkien

Chapter 18:

**The Last Homely House **

The rest of the journey through the Gap of Rohan and on to the home of Elrond at Rivendell went swiftly, with no more time lost to orc or to nature's fury. Their arrival came as no surprise to the elves of Imladris, confirming that Legolas's message to Lord Elrond had arrived via The Guild. A small company met them at the crossing of the Bruinin, greeting them formally and falling in, silent and serious, to accompany them in honor the last distance to the Last Homely House.

Lord Elrond greeted them at once upon their arrival, and Feia and Meg were not disappointed at their first sight of the ancient keeper of an elven ring of power – the last still to dwell in Middle Earth. Although in age he looked no older than a vigorously healthy (and particularly beautiful) human of perhaps forty years, something in his carriage and his eyes spoke of vast experience and wisdom.

Elrond first embraced his sons warmly. Long had Elladan and Elrohir ventured far and wide pursuing the minions of the Enemy, and seldom did they walk the halls and gardens of their home. And then Elrond's eyes flashed with merriment and profound joy as he embraced also his son-in-law, for he did not need to be told the happy news that Arwen was with child; his connection with his beloved daughter was potent, and he had sensed it long since. Haldir had rarely ventured far from Lothlorien in his long life, but he had stood high in the favor of his Lady Galadriel, and so had taken council with Elrond at times of crisis and need. He was welcomed with respect now, as a brother to Imladris. Gimli was also welcomed warmly, for he was no stranger here, and certainly the dwarf most highly regarded by elves in even the longest memory.

But when the high elf lord clasped the shoulder of the prince of the woodland realm, his eyes went grave and his voice was rich with concern. His words were pitched too softly for any save Legolas to hear, but the son of Thranduil seemed to take some comfort from them, for his stance relaxed visibly.

After his introduction to Feia and Meg, lord Elrond said, "In the last weeks, all that I once thought immutable has been subject to change. Do I perceive rightly that the cause stands here before me?"

To which Feia responded, "Nay, my lord, not the cause – catalysts only for changes that would have come in time regardless. We have not the power to affect the kind of change of which you speak. The designs of the Powers That Be are a puzzle we cannot solve, but we trust in them none the less."

"That is all that any of us can do, my lady," the patriarch of the elves agreed. Then Elrond took Legolas aside for private consult, leaving Feia and Meg and their companions in the care of his sons. Elladan and Elrohir arranged rooms and refreshment for their father's guests before seeing to their own ease.

After bathing and changing into a borrowed elven gown in rich shades of red and orange and amber, Feia was ushered into a room by a female elf named Nórui where she found Meg, similarly attired in deep violet and blue. They were served miruvor with fruit and cheese while Nórui worked Feia's hair into an elaborate fall of braids and an elf named Alphlinn wove strands of amethyst into Meg's bounty of curls. The two elves talked, and sang, and shared in the excitement of Meghailin's coming marriage celebration so that Feia and Meg could almost forget that Legolas and Elrond were even now planning a war.

When the very feminine and relaxing preparations were complete, the two elven ladies escorted their guests to where the other companions waited in a small, semi-enclosed garden. At sight of his lady so becomingly arrayed, Haldir, who had been lounging upon a gracefully carved wooden bench, stood and kissed both her hands in profound admiration. Then the two sat together upon the bench, and although they were in company with their friends, and neither spoke aloud, there rose about them an invisible wall of solitude wherein they resided together.

With little to do but wait and listen to the singing of the elves which rose and fell from somewhere within the house, Feia found herself fretting. She stood alone with her hands resting lightly upon a decorative stone railing that encircled the small garden, and stared unseeing out over the beauty of the valley of the elves. For most of her life Feia had longed to experience this place, but her heart was heavy with concern for her husband, whom she loved but had barely begun to know, and for his people whom she knew not at all.

Legolas appeared after a time, still in his traveling clothes. He had come to find Elessar and Haldir only to ask them to return with him to the privacy of Lord Elrond's study, but with the request just passed his lips, his eyes lit upon Serafé where she stood and he froze.

Feia searched her husband's smooth features for signs of worry and fatigue and it may have been due to more than her concern that she found both. She also saw his heart leap into his eyes at sight of her, and her own heart melted in the warmth of his love. And he did love her; of this she had no doubt. They were not alone, so she sent silently, _"You are weary, edhel nin. You must rest."_

_She is so lovely,_ Legolas thought. He did not know why it kept stealing up on him this way. It was not as though he did not know it. She was a beautiful woman and she was his. But with his vision filled with her, garbed as she was in the fashion of the elves, he was captivated once more. And then she spoke into his mind and he blinked rapidly several times before responding.

"_Orenya! I did not know that you possessed this skill. Will you always surprise me, thus?" _

"_We have much to learn about one another, Legolas, and much to share,"_ His lady answered. _"Will you lay your burden down for a time and rest with me in this place? You are only one. It cannot all be accomplished this day."_

"_I am only one, but I am the one upon whom this burden rests. But, aye, I am weary,"_ Legolas conceded, _"I must consult again with lord Elrond and with Haldir and the king. I will come to you anon, but I have no guarantee to offer you regarding rest, my enticing wife!" _And with that, he brushed her mind in a caress which caused her eyes to flutter shut as though for a kiss.

When Feia opened her eyes again, she was not surprised to find him gone, along with Elessar and Haldir. Both Gimli and Meghailin were watching her, Meg with a tiny smile.

"It's that thing, isn't it?" Gimli asked, "That elvish thing where they stare as though they're counting one another's eyelashes. It's disturbing. If they have something to say, they should speak aloud like normal people."

"I am not sure, but I think I may be vaguely insulted, my Lord Gimli," Meghailin said with wry amusement.

Uncomfortably the dwarf cleared his throat, "Dear lady! I meant no offense. Why, The Lady herself spoke into my mind on two occasions. She touched my mind with hers! The honor of it overwhelms me!" Gimli placed a hand over his heart as if clutching something beneath his outer tunic. When he continued, he said, "It's just that, you think you're getting to know a bit about elves – or at least about the elves of your acquaintance, and then they do something like that. It makes them seem strange – somehow alien; and you realize that unless you live a few thousand years, you just aren't ever really going to know."

"Now that all the people of Middle Earth have attained immortality," Feia said as she moved to sit beside the dwarf on his bench, "you shall be able to study elves at your leisure, my lord. Perhaps you will choose to learn how to touch the mind of another, someday. I am sure that Legolas would happily teach you!"

"Hmm, it's disturbing," Gimli muttered. "Unnatural!" he declared. "You think he really might?"

"If he does not, I will!" Meg said warmly and Gimli beamed at her almost shyly. Then the dwarf placed his hand over his heart again and lapsed into thoughtful silence.

After a few moments Feia ventured, "My lord Gimli, in the accounting of your quest, it is mentioned that you received from The Lady a most singular gift. I do not wish to be presumptuous, and I will understand if you would prefer not, but I would be greatly honored if I might look upon it."

"And I!" Meg added. "When I am wed, I shall be Meghailin of Lórien, but a Lórien without the Lady Galadriel! It would make me feel closer to Haldir, who served her nearly all of his life, to see with my own eyes the token of the Lady of the Wood."

"I carry it with me always," Gimli said, "but I show it seldom. And yet, it seems right in this place to share it with you who have proven to be good and true companions." Reverently, Gimli unlaced his outer tunic and removed from inside a brooch of dwarven make, but in an elvish style. Gold and mithril made a filigreed border to a crystal as clear as clean water, polished smooth. Behind the crystal three strands of glowing gold were held on a background of stone that looked the color of the sky just after the sun has set, while it yet retains a memory of its light. It was much like the color of her husband's eyes Feia thought, as with almost ceremonial formality Gimli placed the beautiful object into her hands.

"Ahhh," sighed Meg, who had come to kneel upon the tiled floor between her friends. She reached a hand out toward the brooch, but she did not quite touch it, seeming to stroke the air just over the face of the crystal. "As fitting a setting as it would be possible to make for it, my lord. It holds the power of your heart, for clearly that is what you have put into its creation. You did this work with your own hands, did you not?"

"Aye," the dwarf affirmed, gruffly.

"It is beautiful," Feia agreed. The three golden strands of the Lady's hair seemed to pulse with a light of their own. Almost, they seemed to move slowly and sinuously behind the crystal as she watched – perhaps they did.

Silently Feia imagined what she might be like, _Galadriel, Lady of Light! _What could Feia find to say to such a one if granted the honor of a meeting? There was only one thing of import in her thoughts now.

Feia sighed._ Ah, Galadriel, if it is permitted for you to turn your thoughts to those who are here in the land that you have left behind – could you not find a way to help my husband? His need is great and his heart is heavy! _

Aloud, Feia said, "I cannot but think that Lady Galadriel would be pleased by the tribute you pay her with your care of her gift, Lord Gimli. Thank you!" she said sincerely as she passed the brooch back to the dwarf. "I almost feel that I have stood in her presence – that somehow she knows me, now. I suppose that is a fanciful thought."

"Nay, sister!" Meghailin said, her bright eyes aglow with elven awareness. "She has brushed this place with her thoughts. She does know us! The love of faithful Gimli drew her mind and she has touched us! Thank you indeed, my lord!" and she reached up with her hands, guiding the dwarf's head downward and placing a kiss upon his brow.

The dwarf stammered something incomprehensible as he carefully pinned his treasured gift back in its accustomed place.

XXX

When Elessar and Haldir returned to their companions sometime later, they were in the company of Elrohir. Legolas, they had left to continue taking council with Lord Elrond.

Elrohir led the companions to a long, many-arched hall that was open to the evening, though somehow not at all cold. There they saw several elves, alone or in small groups; conversing softly, reading, eating, or simply listening to the music – for it was from here that the lovely sounds that permeated Elrond's home originated. At the far end of the hall a lady sat at a many-stringed instrument, strumming and plucking a composition of intricate complexity while she sang.

The companions were given food and drink and invited to remain in the hall until such time as Lord Elrond could join them. Elrohir stayed with them, and soon Elladan came also. They ate together but spoke little.

The hall of Elrond Halfelven was, Feia thought, just as Tolkien had described it, through Frodo's eyes. _I could almost believe that I have stepped out of time and in a moment the ringbearer will appear and his uncle with him. _

In time, Elrond entered his hall with Legolas, who had found an opportunity to refresh himself at last. Her husband was now garbed in a silver robe over a shirt and fitted trousers of a blue that was nearly black. A simple silver circlet rested upon his brow. He was unarmed. Feia had not realized how much a part of him his weapons were until this moment, seeing him without them. This was the elven prince, she realized, not the hunter or the warrior, but the prince.

And yet, as he crossed the hall and his eyes sought hers, there was a certain lethalness to his movements, like a leopard with claws sheathed. It would take only a hint of danger to make him the hunter – a breath of threat to turn him into a warrior again. _I am the wife of an elf, _she thought. And that is all the explanation required unless one has the patience of an Ent, for it would take a decade to depict him better in any other words; and at the end the valiant listener would only conclude, "Ah! You describe an elf!"

When he reached her side, Legolas bowed slightly and kissed her hand, then he sat close beside her without uttering a sound; but he retained her hand as though he would absorb comfort from it. It was subtle - so subtle, but his jaw was tense, his eyes haunted. He _needed_ comfort. Feia placed her other hand over their joined ones and Legolas granted her a grateful and reassuring squeeze in response.

Lord Elrond addressed them all, saying, "I apologize for the poor attention I have given you, my guests. Since Prince Legolas's message arrived we have been in preparation, for I fear a speedy departure from the vale will be necessary. My converse this day with Legolas has done nothing to ease the sense of urgency I feel in regard to our brethren of Mirkwood and their peril."

Then his gaze turned to Haldir seated beside Meg, "And yet, I am told that I will have the honor of presiding over a wedding celebration. This is a moment of great joy for these two who wish to be joined and all who care for them. It is not something that I am inclined to rush. I hope you will understand, Lady Meghailin, Lord Haldir," he said bowing slightly to each in turn, "that under the circumstances I will be forced to go against my inclination. Tomorrow we shall have a wedding. The next day will see us depart for Dol Guldur."

XXX

Throughout the evening, Lord Elrond steered the conversation away from the topic of the woodland elves, instead they discussed music, poetry, history and plans for Meg and Haldir's wedding. Legolas spoke hardly at all, and remained close to Feia's side.

But at a certain point, the high elf Lord Glorfindel, having just arrived with a company of elves at Lord Elrond's summons, came and bade Legolas go apart with him for a while. Haldir and Meg had excused themselves some time ago in order to walk together in the starlit gardens.

Feia took this as her opportunity to speak with their host, asking, "My Lord Elrond, have you been fully informed of the manner of my coming to Middle Earth?"

"I have, Lady, and I wonder at it!"

"Indeed, so do I, my lord!" Feia agreed. "Meg and I yet have one more device that is capable of opening a doorway to the world where we most recently dwelt. It is a peaceful place and the gate will open in a location kept safe by those I implicitly trust. May I have your permission to open the gate and allow those of our family and friends who are gathered there to come through and also attend my sister for her wedding?"

"Prince Legolas has told me of the gateway cube and of your intent to use it. I do not object. This valley is well protected, my lady. Even did your former home hold a threat for us, it would be unable to come through. All those who love your sister shall be welcome to share in her joy. This is as it should be," Elrond responded.

"And will you then allow the gate to remain open, my lord?" Legolas asked, having just returned from his converse with Lord Glorfindel.

"Remain open?" Feia was perplexed. "Why, my lord? When our family has returned through the portal tomorrow, we will have no further need of it."

"It is your last gateway cube, my lady," Legolas argued. "What if you should require the aid of your family? You would be almost completely isolated from them without it. Your Guild cannot carry _you, _only messages, is this not so?"

Feia started to protest, but lord Elrond held up a hand to forestall her. He had been studying Legolas closely since his arrival, and was deeply concerned for the woodland elf. The prince had been reluctant to share all the details of his experience since leaving Minas Tirith at his father's summons. Elrond knew what he needed to know, but that was not the issue. Legolas was only just managing to hang on – he had very little hope left.

Neither had said it, but Elrond knew that these two were wed. He also knew that Legolas regretted it; probably because he feared his future would be a short one. Perhaps he hoped that Feia would return to her family if the worst happened at Dol Guldur, creating a widow of his new bride. At the least, the presence of the gateway would afford Legolas the comfort of knowing that the choice was possible for her.

"I see no reason why the gate should not be maintained for a time," Lord Elrond finally agreed.

"I thank you, my lord," Legolas said with a bow, and Elrond saw relief plain in the prince's eyes.

XXX

Hand in hand, Meg and Haldir walked the grounds of Rivendell. Meg felt peaceful - completely at home here. She was at home wherever Haldir was! And she was content to be with him in silence most of the time. Yet now she felt the need for talk, and perhaps also for reassurance. There was much uncertainty ahead.

Breaking into Haldir's contemplation, Meg asked him, "My lord, you were closeted with Lord Elrond, Prince Legolas and the king for some time, today. What plans have you laid to ease the suffering of Legolas's people?"

"For all our talk, there is little enough to it, my lady" Haldir replied. "We shall leave the day after tomorrow taking as many elves as have responded to Lord Elrond's call, and we shall be met on the way by my brother and the Lórien elves. We have decided that we dare not take the time to enlist the aid of the other races, for the Mirkwood elves' plight is urgent. This is an elvish matter, in any case. Thranduil will have to be dealt with one way or another, and I perceive that Legolas is reluctant to have the madness of his father become widely known.

But, bereth nin, I would not have you dwelling upon such things on the eve of our wedding," Haldir concluded, squeezing her hand.

"That our wedding shall take place in a moment stolen between peril and battle does not diminish the event for me, my lord," Meg assured him. "Indeed, it demonstrates to me the importance you give it, that you would take the time before we must go to the aid of your brethren to solemnize your intent that we be wed."

"Before _we_ must go?! _We,_ my lady?" Haldir stopped on the path, turning her to face him. "Surely you do not intend to come to Dol Guldur!"

"Well, of course I shall come!" Meg said, astonished. "Why would I not come?"

Haldir considered his response carefully, "I do not mean to devalue your abilities, for you and Lady Feia are nearly as skilled as trained warriors, but ladies on Middle Earth do not participate in war."

"Indeed?" Meg said, her brow raised and her hand upon her hip. "I feel sure that is about to change, my lord. I feel sure that the Princess of Ithilien has already changed it, for did she not strike down the Witch King on the field of Pellenor? And for your information, my sister and I _are_ trained warriors – very well trained."

"You render me without argument, my lady, save this," Haldir cupped her chin with his hand, "Were anything to happen to you, my heart would die. I could not survive it." And that was the simple truth.

"And were anything to happen to you, my lord and I were not there, you might die in truth. My ability to heal is more valuable than my bow." Meg's voice revealed her frustration, but then she softened and laid a hand over his, "You cannot keep me safe from all danger, my lord. Everyone who will go has someone who would suffer at their loss. Would my grief be any less if you came to harm, than yours would be for me?"

Haldir did not respond, but instead drew her to rest in his embrace. They stood thus for a long while, breathing one another in. Finally Meg asked a question which had been plaguing her mind, "My love, I am confused by Prince Legolas's behavior toward my sister. Feia says that they are wed, but should that not be cause for celebration? I know Legolas has a heavy burden upon him, but there is naught he can do about it whilst we abide here. Why will we have only one wedding on the morrow?"

"As to that, I cannot say," Haldir said almost sadly. "Legolas's mind is hidden from me."

XXX

"I will not go back through the gate, my lord."

Feia paced to the railing of the balcony off the room that she would share with Legolas. She had bid their host goodnight and retired nearly two hours gone, but her husband had only now arrived.

Legolas pulled up short in front of the door he had just closed behind him and he observed his wife silently. Clearly she was angry. Feia had paused to deliver her greeting, such as it was, but she had delivered it standing on her toes and now she was striding across the floor as though she intended to wear it away.

"However matters are resolved at Dol Guldur, Middle Earth is my home, now. So whatever you were thinking, you can put it from your mind," The lady's voice was firm.

"I have not asked you to go, my lady," Legolas said gently. "I only thought it would be good for you to have the option of reaching your family and friends." Legolas moved to stand beside Feia at the balcony and gripped the rail with both his hands. "I cannot see..."

Feia watched him. With the sound of his voice, all the nervous energy had leached out of her and now she was still. _He is all subtlety and I can only truly see him from stillness, _she realized. When Legolas paused, Feia noticed that he shook his head minutely, and his shoulders stiffened ever so slightly while his breath was just a bit shallow – such tiny clues. Yet when he continued, his voice was soft and even, "I do not know what will happen on the Hill of Black Magic. I cannot see if I will return to you, my lady."

_So that is the source of his anxiety,_ she thought. Feia placed her hand upon his back just over his heart and he tensed again just a little at the contact, before relaxing. Then she responded, "To start with, edhel nin, you will _not_ return to me."

Legolas spun to stare at her, his eyebrows bunched together to make one line that crinkled over his nose. Feia smiled at him tenderly, shaking her head. _There is nothing subtle about that,_ she thought.

"You will not return to me, my lord, because you will not be going anywhere _without_ me."

"My lady…!" Legolas began, but Feia interrupted him with fingers pressed to his lips, "Whatever words you mean to speak would not change my mind, so you need not bother speaking them. You seem to believe that you are alone in this! I understand that you feel responsible, Legolas – I know a great deal of duty; but you are surrounded by help. Whether or not you choose to accept our aid will not stop those of us who love you from offering it. Do you suppose that Elessar, or Gimli, or Haldir will stay away?"

Legolas gripped her arms, "Orenya, náim úimë na henlyë morniënen, nallon!" _My heart, I cannot bear to risk you, please!_

"And I cannot bear to watch you hurting anymore, without doing what I may to aid you! Why must you hesitate when I have a gift to offer you? You accepted my energy to heal only reluctantly, but you accepted it. Can you not accept my comradeship in battle? Can you not seek solace from your grief in my love?" Feia touched his face with her fingertips; he seemed confused – off balance.

"When you made me your wife, I did not anticipate that you would attempt to store me away at Rivendell like a parcel until it was convenient for you. Do you not think that the great powers know what They are doing? I came to you at the right time. It was the perfect time, Legolas, because you need me!"

Feia brushed his mind lightly with hers, inviting him to open to the contact. Legolas could not speak, he could not think, and he could not resist. As his mind reached out accepting her offer of one kind of intimacy, his hands moved to the back of her head positioning her so that his mouth could cover hers for another. _ "I do need you, my lady,"_ he spoke into her mind and he opened his thoughts, allowing her to feel it.

And she _did_ feel it! It was as though she stood in the serf with a great foaming wave bearing down upon her; and so entranced was she by the sight of its approach that she forgot that its power would first reach out and pull the sand from under her feet. _Oh, Light!_ was the only thought she could form before she was lost in an ocean of need.

Chapter 19:

**Blessed Day **

Soft morning light spilled across the bed awakening her. Legolas lay at her side. He was not sleeping, naturally, but was propped on an elbow staring thoughtfully at nothing. His other arm was draped over her in his proprietary way. As he sensed her wakefulness, his eyes refocused and he brushed her mouth lightly with his kiss. "Aglar'ni vinyë aur, bereth," _Glory to the new day, wife,_ he said.

"Naie orná aman, tûr nin." _May it be that the day is blessed, my lord._ "The sun has risen and I doubt not that the bride has also. I must attend my sister, Legolas." So saying, Feia slipped from under his arm, but she got no further, for his hand shot out, circling her wrist and drawing her back to him.

"Orenya, do you desire that we should also speak our vows before Lord Elrond this day?"

Feia had wondered why they were not, but in this moment with the question hanging between them, she suddenly knew the answer. "It is not before Lord Elrond that you ever thought to speak such vows. I would not add to the grief you carry, Legolas. We cannot be any more wed for having spoken the words." She paused, stroking his cheek with her fingers. _There are depths to his pain that I cannot know,_ she thought privately. Aloud she said for the first time, "I love you." And having said these things, Feia was at peace.

Legolas sighed in relief and pulled the woman into his embrace. How necessary her faith in him had become! To stand before Lord Elrond in place of his father would be to blatantly acknowledge that the relationship between the king of the woodland elves and his son was forever altered.

"You have my love, Lady, and my gratitude."

XXX

Meg and Feia stood together in the sheltered garden in which they had waited away the afternoon of the day before. They had spent the early morning in preparation for a wedding! In other words, they had indulged in long and relaxing baths and found themselves quite giddy with excess energy, laughing at the most absurd things.

Afterward, Feia had requested the last gate cube of Meg who, divining her sister's purpose, was delighted to provide it. They had come then, together to this place in order to open a gate. Meg was fairly bouncing up and down with anticipation, and Feia smiled in tolerant amusement as she positioned herself with the cube and worked the incantation.

Immediately after the gate solidified into being, The Minister of State of the New Republic swept through it with a muttered, "finally!" Leia, wearing a fitted emerald suit with a flowing translucent robe all in jewel tones over it, was followed closely by Han Solo and Luke Skywalker who guided a hover-carrier between them bearing a number of boxes of varying sizes. The tiny, but impressive Leia Skywalker Organa Naberrie Solo bowed briefly to her sister and then hugged Feia and Meg both together.

From above them upon a balcony, Legolas watched unobserved as the three newcomers with their strange conveyance greeted the ladies warmly. As hugs and kisses were exchanged, a darkly handsome man with intense grey eyes, his long hair caught back by a circlet of gold, stepped through the gate. He was dressed in a red tunic with a golden lion rampant emblazoned upon it. A lovely woman with her blond hair in a braided coil, gowned also in red and with a circlet set upon her brow, followed after taking his arm. This was Kelson of Gwynedd, surely – and his Queen Araxie. Feia and Meg both curtsied to these arrivals and received a bow and a curtsy in return. Then the man took Meg's hand and kissed it, while the three women embraced.

A particularly tall woman followed them. She wore well-fitted leggings, boots and a shirt all in shades of tan and brown. Her hair was gold and cut to swing at her jaw, but two long queues connate remained to hang down her back. About her person, she had a number of weapons and other objects and something in her carriage caused Legolas to guess that these might also be strange weaponry. She appeared relaxed, but her demeanor was serious – businesslike - and her movements gracefully efficient. But when the lady's eyes lit upon Feia and Meg, her generous mouth slid into a wide grin that erased any hint of severity from her features and revealed her as a rare beauty.

Next through the Gate were Derek and Zak, whom Legolas knew. They did not wear their uniforms today, for their identities as Guild Messengers were for family alone to know – though family seemed a loose concept open to interpretation with his lady's people.

The two messenger's bows to Feia were perfunctory and then they descended upon Meg as one, crushing her between them. But the elf, Derek, pulled her away from his concinnate and swung her off of her feet.

"That one is Derek, one can hope." Haldir said, appearing silently at Legolas's side.

Legolas grinned, "Yes, her brother. Not that I think you should have any concerns in regards to your lady, my friend."

"Mmm," Haldir agreed, though he added, "Anyone who looks like he might be the Duke of Cassan, as yet?"

"Nay," Legolas responded. "Only three men lack the queues connate marking them as Alderaani. One is King Kelson, I surmise, and the others are dressed in a fashion so dissimilar to the king that I would guess that they do not dwell in Gwynedd."

"Mmm," Haldir said again.

"Are you prepared to meet your ladies' guests, Lord Haldir, Prince Legolas?" Lord Elrond asked as he joined them at the balcony rail. Indicating that they were, the two followed the ancient elf to the garden below.

XXX

When the introductions were complete, Leia took command of the ladies, and with the hover-carrier they proceeded to Meghailin's room in order to complete the preparation of a bride and her attendants.

Feia asked, "Where is Filip? He _is_ coming?"

"Of course!" Cyrana answered, running her fingers through her chin length hair, "He had to take his request to Admiral Paris in order to receive permission to come here. The admiral granted it, but only this morning. Fortunately, Vision Quest is not terribly far from Gwynedd just now, so Filip was able to take a flier. He will be here soon; but under strict orders not to interfere any further with Middle Earth culture than has already been done.

"The Prime Directive!" She continued. "It may be the greatest gift of the Federation, but it is also an all-fired nuisance at times. I am sure that there is irony, there, somewhere."

"There is this," Leia suggested, "Filip was the one tearing apart the universe seeking Serafé, but he will be the last of us to see her." Leia never used the nickname, Feia, when referring to her sister, for the rhyme irritated her.

"He came to Gwynedd, first," Araxie reported with a slight shiver. "I cannot express to you how angry he was, Feia. I thought he and my husband would come to blows."

"No!" Feia put her hand to her mouth, "He did not threaten the king?!"

"Not quite," the gracious queen of Gwynedd soothed. "Kelson used his 'royal' voice and that took the bluster out of your brother fairly readily."

"Thank the Light for that!"

Leia had been busying herself amongst the boxes that she had brought with her and she was just shaking out the folds of an extraordinary gown of luminous silver and pale shimmering opalescent blue. "I did not imagine that you would have found the time to prepare a trousseau, Meghailin, so I took the liberty. I thought you might find this an appropriate wedding gown."

"Ohhh," was Meg's delighted response. She fingered the fabric and moaned in pleasure.

"Let us put it on you, then" Leia said briskly. "It should fit, but if we will have to make any alterations, we will need to know it quickly."

The gown fit perfectly, the arms and bodice hugging her from the wide curved neckline which left her shoulders bare, to her wrists, and to well below her waist; but the skirts flowed out and back to trail in whispery layers of rich, light-catching fabrics in her wake. Seed pearls, amethyst and sarnnenmír beaded the fabric randomly, making it appear that the dew had settled upon her as it would upon a flower. The effect was stunning and suited Meghailin to perfection.

When they had all admired the gown from every possible angle, Araxie and Cyrana set to work on the elf maid's hair. Then Leia said, "Serafé, I thought it would be proper for you to have something special to wear today, as well. Our brother informs me that you have also wed your concinnate; the elf prince of your girlhood dreams. You will stand for Meghailin, today, but there is no reason that you should not also dress as a bride, or at least as a princess."

The gown that Leia presented was in a style most unlike anything that had ever been seen in Middle Earth, for it had been designed for an ambassador, a former queen of Naboo, and the future queen of Alderaan.

"This was Mother's!" Feia exclaimed. It was white – Padme's favored color…and Leia's.

"Not exactly," Leia explained. "I have a holo-keepsake of Mother in a similar gown which is where you remember it from, no doubt. It is one of my favorites! I had this reproduced from the image. She was wearing the gown when she accepted King Bail's proposal of marriage. As bittersweet as that moment must have been for them both, still there is something romantic and fitting about it, do you not agree?"

"Yes, I do," Feia laid her cheek against her elder sister's and repeated, "I truly do." Leia then helped her into the gown, which proved to be a complex affair consisting of several pieces. Fitted white leggings that hugged her hips and covered the tops of heeled white boots so that it was difficult to say where the fabric ended and the leather boots began went on first. Then there was a wrapped silk halter that looped around her neck, and around to her lower back. A moonstone brooch with a silver setting held the fabric closed and a silver chain descended from the brooch to a pendant moonstone that dangled over her navel. Another brooch held the split overskirt together low on her hips. The overskirt flowed behind in a full, but short train.

Then Leia adorned her sister's hair in a manner that was not unlike how Padme might once have chosen. First she placed a circlet of sinuous silver centered by a moonstone upon Feia's brow. Then she created an elaborate knot high at the back of Feia's head that she covered with a net of silver, also studded with small moonstones. She left the queues connate to hang as always over Feia's eye and down to her waist. The rest of Feia's hair became a fall of ringlet curls down her back.

Wide silver cuffs circled Feia's upper arms, her signet ring was set upon her right index finger, and dark liner around her eyes completed the preparations. Then she turned her attention to the bride, who was also nearly ready.

"Oh, Feia!" Meg exclaimed when she caught sight of her friend in the mirror. "You look like Queen Padme!" She stood and curtsied deeply to her sister, and then she took Feia's hands and smiled. "I wonder what the denizens of our new home will make of _that!"_

"None of them will have eyes to see me once the bride appears!" The vision which Meghailin created as she spun happily in her fanciful gown filled Feia with emotion. Meg floated wearing anything; in this it was open to debate whether her feet need ever touch the floor.

Araxie had pulled Meg's hair back severely from her face, crowning her with a dainty tiara of silver, amethyst and sarnnenmír. Even Meg's queues connate were pulled back as far as the tiara, but from there, Meg's hair fell in its own wild glory. Cyrana had attached tiny gems throughout the curls, so that from head to toe the elf maid shimmered with every movement. A nearly transparent silver veil, edged and scattered with fine beadwork, was placed over all so that a mist of magic seemed to surround her.

"I suppose now I shall have to put on something feminine," Cyrana complained good-naturedly and began removing her sleek fighter's gear in preparation.

It was then that a voice was heard to shout, "Feia!!! Serafé Organa Naberrie, where under the Light are you?! Feia! Show yourself and explain what you think you are doing here!"

"That would be your husband," Leia said to Cyrana with an absolutely straight face.

Cyrana rolled her eyes heavenward. "He is so polite – so genteel! He also has the uncanny ability of knowing whenever I am about to disrobe."

Leia snorted a laugh. "It is not the clothing so much as the weapons he prefers to see you rid of!"

Feia stalked to the door to cover her jittery nerves. Filip was ridiculously overprotective, and so his sister had become skilled at keeping him out of her way when she was considering something potentially dangerous. Usually that only meant a creative use of selective honesty, and who could fault her for it? But this time, if Filip was angry, he had something of a point. She had specifically excluded him from every aspect of her plans to decamp to Middle Earth.

With a deep sigh, Feia opened the door and stepped through, following the sound of her brother's uninterrupted tirade with Leia at her back. The bellows eventually led her to the courtyard garden of Rivendell where Lord Elrond had met them upon their arrival yesterday.

XXX

The scene that greeted Feia and her sister was very nearly comical. Filip stood in the center of the courtyard turning in slow circles and yelling up toward every balcony for his twin. Elladan circled with him attempting to question this intruder in his smooth way in order to determine what exactly he intended. Even Lord Elladan's enduring patience was visibly wearing. Lord Dhugal stood off to one side pretending to be invisible, while Haldir, Gimli, Elessar, and Legolas waited together on the other side of the courtyard.

Legolas's arms were crossed over his chest and to outward appearances he was calm and relaxed – that is unless you saw the tiny clues that indicated he was just this side of violence. Haldir was a student of nuances and so he was talking softly to Legolas who, for his part, kept his eyes locked on Filip and appeared to be ignoring the Lórien elf completely.

As Feia approached with her sister, Derek and Zak skidded to a halt from a dead run opposite them. Filip immediately turned his ire upon the hapless pair, "Where in the infinite universe is my sister? You said she was here! I want to know where!"

"Oh, for the sake of the Light, Filip, here I am." Feia glided down the stairs to the courtyard regally, (really, there was no other way to move in what she was wearing). Her brother, thankfully, had fallen silent.

Meanwhile, Legolas discovered himself completely unprepared for the stunning impact the vision descending into the courtyard had upon him. Dressed in alien fashion and ghosted by her lovely and equally alien appearing sister, his wife resembled nothing so much as an exotic queen with one of her ladies.

"Elbereth, sílanna nin!" _Elbereth, aid me!_ The elven prince breathed.

At that Gimli shared a grin with Haldir while Elessar quirked a half-smile. Well did the king understand his friend's plight! Whenever Queen Arwen went to any special trouble with her appearance, his lady's beauty – which always left him a touch off balance, would hit him like a blow leaving him utterly helpless before her.

Derek's elven hearing made him privy to the comment as well, and his lips twitched. Even so, when Filip and Zak each dropped to a knee, he was less than a heartbeat behind them.

"My Queen!" Filip said fervently, taking Feia's hand and kissing it.

"Get up, you idiot! All three of you; up!" Feia said in exasperation, though she could not quite succeed in arranging a stern expression upon her features. "How long must I continue to remind you that I am not your queen before you absorb the concept?"

"You will always be my queen, Serafé, whatever you say," Filip said, rising, "which is why I take your safety very seriously!" His expression darkened significantly. "You did not inform me that you were leaving Gwynedd! You left me a message at Starfleet, knowing that I might not get it for months, and it said virtually _nothing!"_

His voice had risen gradually throughout until he was nearly yelling again, so that Feia said, "Filip! Will you please stop caterwauling? This is Rivendell. You cannot simply come shouting into Rivendell! Did you even bother to tell anyone who you were, before you started bellowing like a gondark?"

When her brother did not respond and looked, in point of fact, slightly chagrined, she added, "You are fortunate that my husband did not stick something pointy and lethal into you – a strange man yelling for me in that manner!" Feia glanced at Legolas who regarded her enigmatically.

"He was saved from that fate by the braids, my lady," Legolas said, drawing his hand from his brow and over his eye where, on Filip, queues connate hung. Although the arrangement was different, Filip's family queue bore the identical stones as his twin, saving the addition of two garnets indicating his marriage to Cyrana.

Filip had startled at Feia's words and spun when Legolas spoke. Now he turned his attention back to Feia. "So you _have_ found your concinnate. I do not know how I feel about that, Feia, especially seeing you like this – looking so like Mother."

"Would you rather I spend eternity alone than undergo a simple test of faith?" Feia asked her brother very softly. "Have you so little of it yourself that you are sure that we will fail?"

"My faith in you is unshakeable," Filip avowed, also softly – for a wonder. "And this is your girlhood hero, is it not? Who better in whom to place your trust than one of the Fellowship?" Though Filip grinned at this, he did not sound entirely convinced. And when her twin was formally introduced to her husband, he gave the elf a long and meaningful look – which, Feia noted, was returned in kind.

While introductions were being made, King Kelson, Han, and Luke; also summoned, no doubt, by Filip's scene, arrived in the courtyard. Dhugal quickly moved to his liege lord's side and bowed to him briefly.

"He was the soul of graciousness whilst we were in Rhemuth, Sire, I swear it. The moment we stepped through Princess Feia's gate, however…"

"Not to worry, Dhugal," Kelson responded. "I only asked you to see him to the gate, not tie him up and gag him, as tempting as the thought may be." The King of Gwynedd glanced with thin tolerance at Filip who bowed politely, but unapologetically. Then the King turned his attention to Feia, and kissing her hand, said, "My lady, I have never seen you look lovelier."

"Truth!" Luke put in, "You look much like the images I have seen of our mother."

"Thank you, Sire, Sir Knight," Feia said, dipping into a curtsy for each of them in turn. "I'm sure that the resemblance to our mother is intentional, Luke. I believe our sister was making a romantic statement as well as an object lesson of my appearance. Leia can be dreadfully didactic!" she said, and at her back Leia affected an unrepentantly smug expression.

Then Feia turned back to Kelson, "Thank you also for playing host to the other side of the gate, Majesty. This would be a happy day for Meg in any event, but I doubt not that she is pleased to be able to share it with you and with our family."

"And yet I am told that you are already wed, but there was no family here for _you!"_

"It is enough that you are all here, now, and can share in my happiness," Feia responded.

Legolas was not particularly comfortable with this conversation. There was nothing incorrect about what was being said, but there was an odd undercurrent of tension. These two knew one another well, with a relationship developed over years of interaction. Legolas was jealous, he realized, and he did not like the feeling.

"If you are happy, then I do share in it, Lady," Kelson was saying with a slight bow. "Is it also true that you have sworn to the King of Gondor?"

"I have. Middle Earth is my home now, Kelson. Gwynedd never could have been. The Powers That Be know what they are doing."

Kelson drew himself up, "And so you imply that I should not take it personally that you would not wed me, nor would you grant me your oath in all the years that you dwelt in Gwynedd, though you have sworn away both your heart and your allegiance in a few short weeks on Middle Earth."

Legolas took a step forward, but Feia laid a hand lightly upon his arm. She met his eyes until he subsided, and then she slid her hand down to link with his before responding to Kelson, "As deeply as you love your wife, Sire, it is ludicrous for you to be jealous of my husband. I _have_ given both my heart and my allegiance, Kelson. You may recall that you never asked me for my heart, and you held my allegiance without my oath. If you believed that we might have made a good partnership, you are probably right! But you have both love and partnership with Araxie. And regardless of all else, I could never have promised you a lifetime of service or a lifetime of _anything_ when we both knew that when the time came, I would have to go!"

Feia's voice had become increasingly fervent as she spoke and when she was finished, everyone was staring at her. Looking around at the silent faces, she sighed and then addressed the ground, "I suppose Meg had a point; we should have had this conversation before I left Gwynedd. Now I shall have to admit to her that she was entirely correct and I will doubtless never hear the end of it." Legolas lifted her chin gently with his knuckle and Feia breathed another sigh, this one in relief at sight of his soft half-smile.

"My lady is wise," Haldir said, not bothering to say which lady he meant.

"I apologize, Princess Feia," Kelson said bowing again. "Your oaths are yours to give when and where you will, and if you have the kind of happiness which I have found with Araxie, then we are both blessed – but you are missed in Gwynedd, and not only by me. I hope that your husband and your liege lord will forgive my unseemly outburst and simply take it as an opportunity to reflect on their good fortune." Then the King of Gwynedd inclined his head first to Legolas and then to Elessar.

After a pause, Legolas nodded silently to Kelson in acknowledgement, but Elessar responded with a grin, "My good fortune thus far has largely been a series of opportunities to stay out of the lady's way, Your Majesty."

Kelson grinned in return, "Your Majesty, a wise king would take full advantage of every one of those opportunities."

Chapter 20:

**Brothers **

Leaving the troublesome males of their acquaintance to their own devices with a liberal mix of relief and trepidation, Feia and her sister returned to Meghailin's room. Soon it would be time for a wedding.

Cyrana greeted them looking fabulous and feminine in a soft, amber-colored gown trimmed in deep red satiny piping. It was sleeveless and had a low square neckline. The skirts were split to the hip on either side, and dark red leggings and boots peeked from beneath as she strode across the room. A single square garnet on a choker of brown velvet ribbon was her only ornament saving the garnet, onyx, moonstone and carnelian of her queues connate. The onyx was for her father's house, Meéniar, while the garnet was for her house, Strehn. Two carnelians for her husband's house were also woven into Cyrana's family queue. The second braid named her chosen and bore carnelian for King Bail and moonstone for the First.

The bride was serene, seated at the balcony on a cushioned bench with the late morning sunlight dancing on her glittering gown like busy fairies. When Feia joined her, a wry quirk crept into the bride's smile. "Filip has not forgotten how to make an entrance, I note. Did you have to pluck any elven arrows out of him?"

Feia laughed, "Fortunately our hosts were hesitant to put holes in anyone, knowing that we are expecting guests, today. Now, if I can manage to keep my brother and my husband away from one another for the duration, all will be well."

"Filip did not start trouble with Legolas!" Meg moaned sympathetically, "Already?"

"Not quite trouble, exactly," Feia allowed. "Let me just say that there was a certain mutual uncertainty at first sight."

"I selfishly hope Derek and Haldir do better," Meg bit at her under-lip.

"We shall see!" Feia said, "I left all that maleness in a wary knot; including Lord Dhugal, by the way. Apparently he waited behind to show Filip to the gate."

"Well!" Meg chose to understate, "that should be interesting."

XXX

When the ladies had retreated, Haldir was left studying Dughal, Duke of Cassan as the man grinned at King Kelson's side, enjoying the continuing conversation between his liege and King Elessar. He looked quite young, probably younger than he was, and that infectious smile was all square teeth. He seemed to be built entirely of squares in fact, though he managed not to appear stocky. His hair was a coppery red, thick and wiry, tamed with marginal success into a single queue. If there was anyone in the universe more unlike Haldir in appearance, he had never seen him.

The Lorien elf was trying to decide whether that was encouraging in any way when Meghailin's brother Derek turned to Filip with a raised brow, "family conference?" he queried.

"Oh, yes," Filip responded with a decisive nod, "twice over."

Han smiled good-humouredly at Haldir and said, "Run!" then to Legolas he added pleasantly, "Run, now!"

Haldir looked at the man quizzically, while Legolas noted that Zak and Derek with a silent and serious Luke at their back now flanked Filip.

"You are welcome to join us, Han," Zak invited, "you are also our brother."

"Oh, no," Han said holding up a hand in a warding-off gesture. "There are some recollections a person would just as soon not revisit." Then he brightened, "On the other hand it could be therapeutic experiencing it from the other side, and I do have a moral obligation to look after my wife's family, after all."

He stepped in beside Luke, who gave him a companionable slap on the back. "Your pardon, Majesties, my lords," Filip said to Elessar, Kelson, Gimli and Dhugal, "but we have family business to attend to. Prince Legolas, Lord Haldir, if you will kindly join us?" His gesture was less of an invitation than his words implied.

When they had gone apart to the small garden where the gate stood gleaming in the sunlight, Derek said, "Who would like to begin? Oh never mind, I shall! Haldir of Lórien, what proof have you that you are my sister's harmonious match?"

"I thought that other Alderaani could recognize it." Legolas interjected. "Prince Zak perceived that my lady and I are concinnati at our first meeting."

"It is only visible when…well, after...shall we say…"

"Spit it out or keep quiet, Zak!" Filip snapped. "My brother could only see it because you had already put your hands on my sister." He continued, "And believe me, we are getting to that, _elf." _

"We still await an answer to my question, however," Derek reminded them. "What proof have you, Haldir?"

Haldir recounted the tale of his vision in the clearing and the miraculous exchange of rings. Then he recalled for them his first sight of his lady. "I knew there was something extraordinary about her; in truth I believed her one of the Valar when first I laid eyes upon her. But then I apprehended that she was an elf, and I glimpsed my ring upon a chain about her neck. I knew then that we were meant one for the other."

"Well!" Han said, "You'll have to admit. It is romantic."

"The rings are a powerful sign," Derek agreed, nodding. "You are concinnati. And you love her?"

"Completely," Haldir answered simply.

"Then welcome to the family!" Derek said and clasped the elf's hand in his two. Filip followed with a repeat of the gesture, then Zak and Luke, and finally Han who complained, "What, no threats?"

"Lord Haldir is a high elf lord," Luke responded drolly, "not a cocky smuggler with just enough integrity to make him a hero and just enough luck to make him not dead." Han's expression was mildly affronted, but after a moment's consideration he shrugged an acknowledgment.

"Now," Filip said coolly, "How sure were you, Prince Legolas, that you and Serafé were concinnati before you made free with her person? And just how under the Light did my sister come to be bruised and covered in mud?"

"The details of my relationship with my wife are not your concern, Prince Filip," Legolas grated, "as I am sure my lady would agree."

"The lady is not here," Filip said, stepping closer to the elf, "but I am, and I get to decide what is or is not my concern!"

"Legolas…" Haldir began.

"Nay, Haldir! Feia is my wife! These matters are private." Legolas glared at Filip and then stepped away, facing out of the garden.

Haldir followed after him and said softly, "The lady is your wife, but these are her brothers – they are your family now also. An yantaen imbe met a hain, uvalyë úna dínen, mellon nin." _For the sake of good will, tell them something, my friend. _

Legolas heaved a sigh. He did not turn to face them, but he spoke just loud enough to be heard by all, "By chance or fate I saw her," He began. "She must have just come through her first gate for she was traveling from the plains of Rohan toward Gondor whilst I was responding to the summons of my father, passing north through King Eomer's lands. The setting sun lit her hair like flames and the sight of her that way is burnt into my mind."

As Legolas spoke it was almost as though he had breached some barrier, for words began to come more freely. He told them of his vision of his lady as she sought for him using his lost knife as a focus. His voice roughened as he recounted learning that Feia had risked her life to heal him. "She was not sure that we were concinnati! That she would risk all on my account…"

Legolas could not finish the thought and he paused, wrapping his arms around his middle before relating the events that occurred upon the bank of the Anduin, completing the tale with: "I saw the opened gate, suspended beside her, but then it was gone! She had the means to save herself, but she _closed_ it! She could not have known I would be there to catch her!"

Dragging his hands over his face, Legolas finished in an anguished whisper, "So close…a moment more and I would not have been."

There was a drawn out silence, and then Filip said from directly behind Legolas, "I am going to turn that woman over my knee, I swear by the Light!"

Legolas spun, "You are speaking of my wife!"

"Yes, I suppose I am at that," Filip agreed. He reached out to take Legolas's hand, but hesitated, "Are you acquainted with the Foreseeing?"

"I am."

"Do you know what happened to our mother?"

"Lady Meghailin has advised me."

"If you condemn her to that, I will find you, and I will kill you. Welcome to the family," and Filip smiled disarmingly, gripping Legolas's hand.

Legolas stared at the man for a moment in utter amazement, and then very slowly he also smiled. "Thank you," He said.

Chapter 21:

**A Wedding at Imladris **

The sound of many chiming bells down in the small courtyard beneath Meg's balcony drew the attention of the waiting ladies. Lining the balcony to see, they were greeted by a charming sight.

Lord Glorfindel and Lord Elrohir and several other elves waited below along with mounts for all of them. The horses had been decked in flowers, ribbons, and bells; and a bright silken canopy of palest blue, supported on beribboned poles was being held over one of them. The mare was deep gray with a white blaze. She had been curried and combed until she shown, and her black mane and tail were festooned with white, pink, and yellow flowers. A richly embroidered blanket edged in tiny bells waited upon her back.

Glorfindel called up, "My Lady Meghailin, your husband-to-be has arranged this gift for you! She is called Linnêl and she is prepared to carry you to your wedding." At his words, the pretty mare danced and tossed her head coquettishly, causing her bells to jingle and her shining hooves to click on the cobbled yard.

"She seems well pleased with herself!" Meg laughed. "I think I may be in love!"

"With the mare my lady, or with Lord Haldir?" Glorfindel asked with a grin. Meghailin was already hurrying from the room and down to the courtyard, and so he received no answer.

While Glorfindel introduced Linnêl to her new mistress, Elrohir approached Feia. "Legolas and Haldir spent a good deal of time in the stables this morning with my brother and me. Legolas seemed concerned that a new mount might intrude upon your grief over the loss of Cricket, who was a fine and loyal animal. When he saw Yáviëlosse however, he said that he knew she was for you.

"Oh, Elrohir, she is lovely!" Feia breathed as she reached a hand out for the mare to inspect and then stroked the animal's neck with the other. Yáviëlosse was a warm red-brown with short white socks and a patch of white upon her chest. The mare regarded her in turn with a disarmingly intelligent consideration. She also had been groomed for the occasion with braids in her mane and tail threaded with red-orange ribbons and small red rosebuds. A saddle, crafted with the elven aesthetics of both function and beauty, rested upon her back. "Is she truly for me?" Feia asked in wonder.

"Prince Legolas has arranged that you should have her," Elrohir replied. "He groomed her for you with his own hands." Offering her a hand to mount, the elf added, "The prince has explained matters to her, and she listened quite attentively. I think she knows what is expected of her. You should be well served, my lady."

Feia was deeply moved by her husband's gift and by his thoughtfulness. That even with the weight of his burden upon him he had thought both to provide a horse for her and to trouble over her grief at Cricket's loss touched her heart.

When she was mounted and had arranged her split skirt to fall over Yáviëlosse's back, she noted that Meg and the other ladies were also mounted. Meg sat sideways without a saddle on Linnêl's back with the full skirts of her dress and her filmy veil like a cloud around her. Beneath the canopy, the bride minded Feia of an ancient painting she had once seen on Earth depicting Lady Guinevere riding to meet her king and husband.

Leia had been lent Hasufel for the event and she was talking softly to the horse; patting his neck. Leia was a fine rider, and though she seldom had the opportunity to exercise her skill, she had an excellent eye for quality horses. Her expression registered approval as she evaluated the animals that the elves had provided for them.

Cyrana was an indifferent rider, and to those who knew her she appeared anxious perched on the large deep brown beast she had been lent, by name Limros To most observers however, her rigid posture seem quite correct and proper.

Queen Araxie sat easily upon a gelding named Ash. Ash was Araxie's own horse, brought for her use by Lord Dhugal when he had come through the Gate earlier. He was equipped with a red leather side-saddle, and Araxie sat with her red gloved hands loose upon the reins and her heavy red skirts spread in dramatic contrast to the dapple gray animal's coat.

All seemed in readiness and Feia moved Yáviëlosse close behind Meg's canopy and said, "Shall we see you to your groom, sister?" and without waiting for the obvious answer she asked, "Where shall the ceremony take place, my lords?"

"A glade in the wood has been prepared and Lord Haldir awaits his bride there with my father's household and the rest of your guests." Elrohir said with a bow. "It will be our honor to escort you and your attendants, my Lady Meghailin."

With that, the two high elf lords each quickly mounted their own horse and moved, one to the front and one to the rear of the procession, there were also four elves to bear the canopy and several others carrying musical instruments. Before they could begin to play, Feia sang to the accompaniment of the bells, and Leia's low and resonating voice and Cyrana's surprisingly lilting one joined her adding harmony.

When they had sung the traditional Alderaani wedding song once through, the elves added more accompaniments along with improvisational counter-melodies that transformed the song, making it fitting for the purely elvish valley of Imladris.

Meghailin fairly glowed with joy and anticipation alone, but the magic of the moment had also brought out the fey in her and she glowed truly as only elves can. She peered ahead anxiously for a first glimpse of Haldir, but glanced back often to share a pleasantly nervous smile with her sister, a hand pressed to her fluttering stomach.

XXX

Haldir waited in the glade for his bride. Though it was mid-autumn, the vale of the elves maintained a pleasingly temperate climate. A light breeze caught at the leafy canopy, gone to red and gold and orange, lifting away those leaves that were ready to come and laying them gently upon the ground for their rest. Garlands of late flowers and ribbons of all colors floated in streamers from the branches above, woven with care by elf maidens pleased to have reason for joyful decorations in the atmosphere of tension which had permeated Rivendell in the past days.

Apparel borrowed from Elladan and Elrohir made Haldir's wedding garb. He wore soft loose pants of a thin shimmering white fabric with a matching tunic belted in gold and soft gold slippers were set upon his feet. A loose open robe of muted green with fine gold embroidery hung from his shoulders to mid-calf. A slender circlet of intertwining golden and silver vines rested upon his brow.

Lord Elrond stood to Haldir's right, and Legolas attended to his left. Both were silent, waiting with patience for the bride and her ladies to arrive. Legolas's preferred clothing ran to greens and blues and silver, and today he had been loaned a fitted silver tunic which was belted also with silver, and fitted leggings of indigo with matching soft short boots. He also wore his own circlet of a single graceful curve of silver that dipped into a softened point at the center of his brow.

Haldir was quietly joyous today, for he would wed fair Meghailin and she would be his for all time, but his happiness did not cause him to forget what tomorrow would bring. And for that reason he watched Prince Legolas closely. His friend's suffering concerned him. Observing him now, Haldir found himself recollecting when he had first seen Legolas as a tiny babe. Elves had children seldom, and for the last two and a half thousand years not at all. Legolas had been one of two children living in Mirkwood at that time. He and the Lady Nimírië had been born a few short years apart and were raised together. They were the youngest of all the elves on Middle Earth saving Queen Arwen, the Evenstar of her people.

Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn had traveled to Mirkwood in order to see the young prince and to pay their respects to King Thranduil and Queen Nenuiel. Haldir and his two brothers had been among those honored to attend their Lady and her lord on that journey.

Haldir had not known what to think of King Thranduil, a devoted caretaker of his people who demonstrated much wisdom in his leadership. And yet in contrast to his capable rule, the lord of Eryn Lasgalen was inclined toward an attachment to beautiful and valuable possessions. To take pleasure in beauty, to appreciate it – that is elvish. To desire it to the point of covetousness – that is most definitely not.

Additionally, Thranduil was jealous of the wealth of the dwarves, and so had come to greatly dislike and distrust them. During The Lady's visit he had obsessively argued with her in the hope of bringing her around to his point of view regarding dwarves. In time, the limit of Lady Galadriel's patience was reached, and she warned the king to have a care, else he set into motion that which would lead to war between the races. As the years went by, the relationship between dwarves and elves deteriorated into open hostility with much fault on either side, but Thranduil had at best done naught to discourage it.

And so Haldir had not wondered, as some might, why the three elven rings of power were not held by the rulers of the three elven seats of power; Lothlorien, Imladris, and Eryn Lasgalen. The first two were indeed held by Lady Galadriel and by Lord Elrond, but the third had been passed into the keeping of Mithrandir, one of the Istari and not an elf at all.

Haldir had been curious to see if the child, Legolas, would grow to be like his father, desirous of wealth and of power. But word came from the grey pilgrim, as the years passed that the young prince was an eager student, but not as much of his father as of the wizard. Legolas gave his love and obedience to his father, but he did not give his faith blindly to his king. And so, Haldir speculated that to Thranduil's mind, he had been robbed both of a ring of power and of his son's regard by Gandalf the Grey; which was a possible explanation for the suspicion Thranduil had come to feel toward the Istari.

And then Legolas began to roam with the human rangers of the north - particularly with Aragorn, who was Isildur's heir, with whom the elf, encouraged by Gandalf, developed a friendship. Could it not be that a sense of betrayal had taken root then in King Thranduil's heart? The woodland king despised dwarves and considered wizards to be suspect; humans he regarded with disdain. How then did Thranduil feel, after the War of the Ring, knowing that Legolas had volunteered to follow a wizard, had befriended a dwarf, and had risked his life for the sake of the mortal races? And in the years after the war, Legolas had chosen to remain in Gondor where he served a human king with loyalty and love and the faith that Thranduil had never fully earned.

But was that enough to drive Thranduil to madness? He was an elf! Assuredly he was an unusual elf, but never would Haldir have predicted that Thranduil could not only ally himself with the creatures of the enemy but also turn on his only child so completely! That he would torture him – attempt to take his life!

Legolas's grief ran deep, and Haldir could sense that his friend had yet to assimilate the shock and pain of his experience. Legolas loved his father and Haldir could only imagine how greatly the woodland elf desired to find a rational explanation for Thranduil's actions.

And into this, the most personally troubling time in Legolas's life, walked Princess Serafé through her magical gate - a woman, not an elf – a brave and immortal woman, granted, but a woman nonetheless. Could Legolas bring himself to trust the lady's love? He had at least yielded to it and taken her to wife, but Haldir did not need to be told that his friend regretted that act.

Haldir had been heartened this morning whilst he and his friend had chosen gifts for their brides from the stables of Rivendell. Legolas so obviously loved his lady! But behind every loving act were layers of guilt and grief and pain without seeming end. Was it enough grief to cause him to fade? Haldir feared that Legolas was in danger as grave now as at any moment whilst in the hands of the orc and his maddened father. Legolas was in danger, and so was Lady Feia.

Into these melancholy thoughts the merry sound of approaching bells intruded, along with voices raised in joyous song. Haldir recognized Princess Serafé's voice leading the singing for her beloved sister's wedding day. It took little effort to turn his mind from his anxiety over his friend, for his bride was approaching. And unlike Legolas, Haldir had no doubts about the rightness of what he was about to do. Even were he not to trust the confirmation of his heart, he had received ample signs that Meghailin was meant for him and he for her.

He held in his hand one of those signs. Haldir had asked his lady to return the emerald ring that had been his brother's upon their arrival at Rivendell, and he had arranged with an elven jewel smith to re-make the ornament to fit a daintier hand. An exchange of rings was not an elven tradition, but for Haldir and Meg it was a magical exchange of rings that had set them upon the path toward one another, and so it was an appropriate addition to the simple ceremony of joining.

Through the trees he watched the procession advance, lead by Glorfindel on his beautiful white steed, Asfaloth, the brave horse who had born the injured Ringbearer upon his back to the safety of the elven held bank of the Bruinin whilst the nine dread nazgul followed close upon them. Asfaloth was bedecked, as he usually was, with bells; but he also proudly wore a garland of flowers about his great neck. Behind him came Hasufel bearing Princess Leia. Lady Cyrana and Queen Araxie of Gwynedd followed upon their mounts.

And then Haldir saw his bride in her wedding finery and he gasped aloud. She looked again as he had first seen her, like a Vala alight with angelic power. She shimmered and glowed with it! And then his lady looked upon him and she smiled. She smiled and he fell yet further under the spell of love, though he knew not how that could be possible for his heart had belonged to her utterly from the first.

From those assembled for the ceremony, several approached the wedding party. Princess Leia was assisted from her mount by her husband, while King Kelson handed down Queen Araxie and Prince Filip saw to his wife Cyrana. Derek would escort his sister to her groom while Elessar went to the rear of the canopy where Feia rode before Elrohir and offered his arm to his liege lady.

"It must please Lady Meghailin that your family and friends could attend her today, my lady," Elessar said to Feia as he tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow.

Feia smiled, "Yes, it pleases us both that our family is here for this moment, your majesty. We have all traveled far, and often our paths have kept us far from one another for long periods of time. It may be the last that Meg and I will see of them for some years, for the threat of the collective is not an idle one and we have used up our magic."

"I thought that Lord Elrond had agreed to allow the gate to remain."

Feia cast a glance at her husband where he waited beside the groom. He was watching her with a steady and unreadable gaze. Why? Why was Legolas so adamant that the gate be maintained? "Hmmm," she agreed, "For a time we shall have that."

They came then to where the bride waited with her brother, and the radiant light of joy emanating from her sister captivated Feia. Even the puzzling workings of her husband's mind and the perilous quest that awaited him could not keep her from joining fully in Meg's happiness. Without conscious intent, the two friends came together and embraced, happy tears threatening for them both. Lord Derek looked on, an expression of profound affection upon his handsome elvish features.

King Elessar observed the ladies also. These two had come to his world and had potentially changed the destiny of every person who dwelt here. Or rather, their coming had heralded that change. They had given him access to knowledge which pushed back the boundaries of what he had thought was possible and what he believed was not. They had captured the hearts of two he held as friends.

They had saved Legolas's life.

The loss of Legolas was not a thought that Elessar had ever willingly contemplated. They had been in danger, both together and separately, on countless occasions; the possibility had always been there that Legolas could be killed. And yet, it was simply not within Elessar's ability to imagine that he should outlive his immortal friend. By Princess Serafé's bravery and Lady Meghailin's skill in that single act of healing, they had secured Elessar's gratitude and his friendship. Lady Feia had sworn him fealty, but if she did nothing else on his behalf, he would still consider himself well served.

The bride drew apart from her sister, but for a moment they clung to one another's hands, sharing a gaze filled with a lifetime of devotion. Feia lifted her sister's hands and kissed them, and then after one more brief squeeze, she released them and turned to take the arm King Elessar offered so that he might lead her to where the groom waited with Lord Elrond and her husband.

When Elessar had installed Feia to Lord Elrond's right, he rejoined the elves and guests who stood beneath the swaying garlands in the dappled light of the glade. Feia thought that the wedding guests were more beautiful than any decoration. The grace and beauty of the elves in their finery, interspersed with the well-loved faces of her family set in this timeless place formed a vision she knew she would hold in her memory like a treasure.

The elven musicians continued to play and the leaves gently fell as though caught in the melody, pausing in the air to dance and tumble becomingly to honor the coming of the bride.

And upon the bride were the eyes of every person present save one. Legolas watched his lady instead and saw written upon her face the great love she felt for her sister and her family. _She dwells completely in this moment, _Legolas thought. And when, her eyes aglow and a sweet smile upon her lips, Feia turned to share her happiness with him; Legolas could feel her sinking into his soul, and he welcomed her there without reservation for the first time.

His acceptance of the love they shared must have been there for her to read in his eyes, for Feia's expression melted with joy and her breath hitched.

Legolas smiled sweetly into her eyes,_ "nalyë ore nin, Feia,"_ _you are my heart,_ he sent simply, along with a mental caress that brought color to her cheeks.

"_Im ná leië oialë, Legolas,"_ _I am yours forever,_ Feia promised, and her hand lifted from her side of its own accord, as if she would touch him. But just then the bride and her brother stepped between them. Legolas moved an inch to his right and he saw his wife look down with a deepening blush and a happy smile before she returned her attention to her sister.

XXX

Meghailin was about to be wed. As she watched the king lead her sister to a place at the front of the congregation of elves and family, the realization set in for true. In moments, she would be wed to her concinnate, Haldir of Lórien.

During the long years spent wandering homeless through the galaxies, Meg had put aside her hopes of meeting and marrying her harmonious match. Like her sister, Meg had supposed that the one meant for her had been killed on the hideous day when their home was destroyed. Even after the countless miracles they had witnessed as other refugees from their homeworld found their heart's homes in the unlikeliest of places, still Meg had resisted the urge to hope that such a fate awaited her. It was easier to put the thought from her mind and accept her solitary life than it was to bear the disappointment when world after world failed to yield a place for her to call home and a heart with whom to share it.

But here in this place on this day, Meghailin, Second of Alderaan would embrace a miracle all her own.

When Feia was in place and King Elessar had joined the wedding guests, Derek pressed Meg's hand and said, "Im henuvalyë an tauriëlyë nai im henuvalyë calen naóre." _I will see you to your lord if I will then see you happy. _

"Utúvien marnya a bereth; Im ná calen naóre sí!" _I have found my home and husband; I am already happy!_ Meg smiled at her twin through the screen of her veil and laid her hand upon his.

And so, on her brother's arm, the bride in her shimmering gown glided the last distance separating her from her groom. But afterwards, Meg could hardly recall taking those steps, for her eyes locked upon those of Haldir and he seemed to draw her to him with his will alone. Quite suddenly, it seemed to Meg, she stood before Lord Elrond with Haldir at her side. Derek lifted her hand to his lips and then placed it in Haldir's hand before dropping back to join Zak amongst the onlookers.

"For the sake of our guests, I shall speak in a common tongue," Lord Elrond declared. He took a long moment to gaze out upon those assembled, and then he began, "Until my daughter, Arwen Undómiel, wed King Elessar of Gondor, a celebration such as this had not taken place on Middle Earth for over three thousand years; and now there shall be another." At this, the high elf lord's eyes cut briefly between Legolas and Feia, for in fact, there were now three.

"The elves of Middle Earth have long stopped looking forward except toward the day when we would take ship from these shores a final time. Instead, our hearts have turned inward to dwell upon the past, and for this, we have sacrificed the present," Elrond continued.

"And so the joy of love, and the gift of children which represent hope have been denied us. We reserved our joy and our love for the glorious past and placed all of our hope in a faraway land. Perhaps in Valinor elves might turn once again toward one another and place their hearts in the present, but I do not foresee that this is so. In leaving this world, I believe we commit ourselves to an eternity of remembrance without a future. And so I have begun to doubt that I will leave Middle Earth. My grandchild shall be born here and now he shall not die. My daughter will not die – for the mortal races of this land have ascended to immortality and grief shall not have her. And now, once again, elves wed at Imladris."

These words caused a buzz of whispers amongst the elves present, as for the first time that which they all had begun to sense was spoken aloud by Elrond Halfelven. When the murmurs of the crowd ceased, Elrond spoke again, "Tomorrow we go to lift the suffering of those of our people who dwell in Mirkwood," Here again he glanced at Legolas whose face was once more blank and unreadable. And Elrond said, "I deem that the spell which threatens our woodland kin has its ultimate root in fear. Fear of the present - fear of embracing a future for the elves – an unwritten future which we must create as we go, just as the other free people of Middle Earth must do. There is uncertainty in such a future; but there is also life. And there is hope."

Elrond turned at last to the bride and groom, "And so it is altogether fitting that today we celebrate the joining of these two who have embraced the present by allowing their hearts to guide them to one another. In them, we have an example of hope to guide us in the decisions which lie before us."

Haldir of Lórien, is it your intention to take as your wife Meghailin Celduinsén McKiernan of Alderaan and to live with her as her husband wheresoever your shared path may lead you?"

"It is," Haldir responded, but his eyes remained locked upon Meg's face.

"Meghailin Celduinsén McKiernan of Alderaan, is it your intention to take as your husband Haldir of Lórien and to live with him as his wife wheresoever your shared path may lead you?" Meg squeezed Haldir's hand, "It is," she agreed.

"I am told that the two of you have tokens that you wish to exchange," Elrond said, gesturing for them to proceed.

Haldir lifted Meg's slender hand and placed the re-sized ring that had once been his brother's onto her finger. Meg held her hand up in surprise, for the ring with its glimmering emerald leaf now fitted her well, and then she removed from her thumb where she carried it, her father's ring. As she slid it upon Haldir's hand, it became his, just as she was.

"Friends, let us celebrate with Haldir and Meghailin of Lórien who shall be wed," Elrond said. "Proceed, if you will, to the hall where we will toast their happiness."

And then Feia, ascertaining that nobody had given Haldir instruction in the matter, sent into his mind, _Brother! Lift her veil away and kiss her, for it is a tradition of our people. _

Haldir started slightly and then smiled his thanks to Serafé. Gently he gathered the filmy and glittering fabric in his hands, lifting it over Meghailin's head. Then he framed her lovely face with his fingers, the face of his beloved, and he brushed her mouth lightly with his kiss. Spontaneous applause from his lady's family startled a laugh from Haldir. Legolas smiled indulgently and also put his hands together. With that, the other elves also applauded, (having just learnt of the practice) including Lord Elrond whose expression was bemused.

Hand in hand, the bride and groom, followed by Lord Elrond and then Feia and Legolas preceded the wedding party back through the trees to Rivendell. Meg asked, "My lord, did I rightly hear that we are still to be wed? Was that not what this ceremony was meant to accomplish?"

At her question, Lord Elrond turned and caught Legolas's eye and they both grinned. Haldir responded, "We shall not be wed until such time as we may be alone together, bereth nin."

"Ah," Meg said, and her fair skin flushed to crimson.

Chapter 22:

**The Nature of Smoke **

A feast was laid for the celebration of Meg and Haldir's wedding, and there was music and dancing in Elrond's hall. The bride and groom took food and drink from one another's hands, while the elves and their guests offered eloquent wishes for their happiness.

Legolas guided his lady through the steps of a measured dance in which the palms of their hands were held flat against one another without separating throughout. Afterward he took his cue from the dance, and during the feast and celebration he was never far enough away that some part of them was not touching - and he touched Feia's mind also with his, wordlessly sharing with her his regard.

And so the evening passed for Feia, so that she was surprised when it came time to speed Meg and Haldir away to their privacy. The elves sang a traditional song for the occasion that had not been heard in this hall for thousands of years, while Meg and Haldir were passed from embrace to embrace and handclasp to handclasp until they had received the blessings of all present. The melody was as uplifting as befitted the occasion, and Feia was struck by the contrast between it and every other elvish song she had heard during her stay in the Last Homely House, for even those meant to be joyous were often tinged with melancholy.

When the bride and groom were well away, Feia's family and friends made ready to return through the gate to Gwynedd. They each took their leave of her companions and Lord Elrond, and then with Legolas, she escorted them to the garden where the gate beckoned in the darkness.

With mutual bows and curtsies, King Kelson and Queen Araxie along with Lord Dhugal were first to depart. The sheet of light parted for them offering a glimpse of a hearth, and shelves replete with books and scrolls, then they were gone and the gate seemed a solid thing once more. Feia took a breath and prepared to bid her family farewell, but they presented her a united front, each with their particular brand of determination evident, so that she was forced to conclude that a conspiracy was about to be revealed.

Filip spoke for the group, "We would, all of us, remain to assist Prince Legolas with his quest."

Feia was rendered momentarily speechless by this pronouncement, leaving Legolas to respond, "Prince Filip, I am grateful for your offer, but my brethren and I have deemed this an elven matter."

"Forgive me, my lord, but it is also a family matter," Princess Leia corrected.

Having composed herself, Feia faced her recalcitrant family, "I cannot express to you what this gesture means to me and I cannot deny that your assistance would be a great help and a comfort. My husband does not know as I do what valuable aid you each have to offer! But even so, I must insist that you all return to the places you have found for yourselves, for that is where you are most needed."

There was general protestation with Filip by far the most spirited until Feia raised a hand requesting silence (which was reluctantly granted). Turning her attention to Derek and Zak she took hold of a hand of each, "Would you truly jeopardize your standing in The Guild? There is no more worthy charge than that which you have both committed to, but you serve it honorably only if you adhere to the accord even when not in uniform - this you know and do not require me to say it!"

Leia's expression was prickly, but Feia was undaunted and embraced her elder sister saying, "You are well aware what could happen in the Senate were your seat to become vacant. It would be just the opportunity those who thrive upon chaos hope for! And how would it be if, however unlikely, the only living knight of Luke's order met his end in the forests of Middle Earth? How also could you police the far reaches without General Solo and his band of erstwhile thieves?"

"Smugglers," Han said with a pained expression, "Not thieves, smugglers. There is a difference." Luke was, as ever, unperturbed; allowing matters to unfold as they would, though he spared a wry twitch of a grin for his long-time friend.

"And what of me, sister?" Cyrana held an obdurate stance, hand on her hip. "I have not found so exalted a place as the rest of you. I am a simple sword for hire - and not even a particularly good one, what with my un-mercenary-like tendency toward politics." Then with an impish glint in her eyes she added, "You could pay me if it would make you feel better."

Feia huffed a laugh, "As much as I resist admitting it, because I am positive you would really enjoy orc, Cyrana, your place is exalted!" Clapping her hand on the shoulder of her brother's lady, Feia continued, "And your latest political stance is an admirable one! I know you are among those rehabilitating the new-fledged individuals that have been separated from the collective. The elves are capable of undertaking this quest, but they are not equipped to stop drones from turning this world into a wasteland, or stealing away the uniqueness of its diverse people. Do your part to remove that threat and you will serve my needs and my husband's far better than one extra sword in this conflict could do – even if that sword is yours."

The high ground upon which he had been standing was falling rapidly away and Feia could see that her twin was working himself up for a final appeal. She took Filip's face in her hands to stay him, "You are too forthright not to report to your superiors that you involved yourself in an internal struggle on Middle Earth. If you were court-marshaled, how then would you rid this quadrant of the collective so that we may freely meet again? It is through Federation efforts, _your_ efforts, that the end of that terror will be realized, Lieutenant Organa."

"But how can we leave you and Meg in danger, knowing that were we here we might protect you?" Filip tried.

"Now we reach the heart of it, do we not?" Feia smiled, "I am not the Queen of Alderaan, Filip; I am not really even the First anymore. The only reason you could have for wanting to protect me is your love! My love for you is no less, but I gave up being able to protect you long ago. Do you believe me to be incapable? Is Meghailin incapable?"

"Far from it, you know that!"

"Then please, Filip," Feia said, "We have more protectors on Middle Earth than we can contend with, as it is. Go back to Vision Quest and fly."

With another round of hugs and kisses, a large portion of reluctance, and many pleas for caution in the upcoming campaign, Feia's loved ones finally departed one by one. Valiantly, she hid her sudden loneliness as the brief visit came to its conclusion. Feia did not regret her choices, but her life here was much in the nature of smoke. There was nothing in it that she could yet hold onto, even her marriage to her concinnate existed mostly on faith. It was harder than she had anticipated, allowing her family to go.

Legolas watched his lady with both admiration and concern. She had handled them adroitly, but he could see that parting with her family was distressing her. He could not comfort Feia as he longed to do, and pledge to her that all would be well. There was no certainty in him that it would be so.

Feia had sent her family away with well-reasoned arguments, but many things could occur in the days ahead that might alter that reasoning. Legolas was grateful beyond measure that Lord Elrond would maintain the gate.

Before that gate his lady embraced her twin a final time prepared as she could be to send him on his way. Filip turned to his sister's concinnate and demonstrated that though Feia had thwarted his arguments, his would be the final word:

"If anything happens to my sister or to Meggie, you will be seeing me again sooner than you would like, elf!" he hissed under his breath, a grim cold smile on his lips. But then his expression softened to concern and he clasped Legolas's shoulder, "By the Light, I pray you will make a successful conclusion to this dreadful trouble, brother." And with that he disappeared through the gate leaving the elf in mystification.

XXX

As Meg and Haldir were carried from the hall on the wings of song and well wishes from the wedding party, Meg's heart began to flutter in anticipation. Now, she thought, now is the time that my lord and I shall be wed at last.

And so, Meg was disconcerted when the elven ladies, Nórui and Alphlinn, flanked her, and ushered her away from her groom, singing all the while. She looked over her shoulder at Haldir with wide eyes and he laughed softly.

_"Patience, bereth nin,"_ he sent. _"We have a lifetime to be wed. Allow them their rituals – it has been long since they have had the opportunity."_

The elves did not lead her to her own room, nor to Haldir's, but to a room at the highest point of the meandering House of Elrond. The streamers of flowers and ribbons that had adorned the trees in the glade were here draped upon the balcony rails and over the ornate headboard of the bed. The room was lit with candles and a fire burned on the hearth that smelled particularly delightful. When Alphlinn tossed more herbs upon the burning logs, Meg discovered why.

The elf ladies assisted Meg in removing her gown and veil and clothed her in a simple but beautiful flowing robe of pale green. The fabric was so soft that, though Meg was covered from neck to ankle, she felt almost as though she wore nothing at all. Then Nórui removed Meg's tiara and arranged her hair so that the lustrous curls fell about her shoulders, still glittering with the gems that Cyrana had woven there.

The elves left her ensconced, somewhat self-consciously, upon the large bed holding a silver cup of miruvor with cream and honey, instructing her that she was to share the cup with Haldir.

Meg's discomfort grew as she waited alone in the room for what she experienced as an eternity, but was in reality less than a quarter hour. When Haldir came to her, however, dressed also in a robe – his of deep green edged in gold, Meg forgot her nervousness entirely and welcomed him with a beckoning hand.

When at long last, Alphlinn and Nórui had come to inform him that his bride was prepared to receive him, Haldir had been hard pressed not to sprint up the winding corridors toward the room he would share, at long last, with his Meg. Instead he had made the journey sedately, and attempted to meditate upon the significant commitment he was about to consummate. He was an elf after all, not a human to be driven by the fires of his blood. But when he found her awaiting him, with her hand outstretched and her winsome smile, he wished he had run; for the night was moving on apace and there was much he longed to share with his lady before the dawn.

He moved and sat close beside her, receiving from her hand the cup she held. Dutifully Haldir sipped, but he could not tear his eyes from his lady. Without conscious thought he set the cup behind him on the bedside table. "Now you will be my wife," he whispered.

And his lady sighed, "Yes."

XXX

At the door to their room, Legolas paused. Feia turned to her husband and found him watching her - he always seemed to be watching her - and seeing things deeper and more revealing than his eyes could account for. He reached out and tenderly brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. When he withdrew, it was as though his touch had tied her with a chord so that she followed his movement until she was enfolded in his arms.

"Thank you for Yáviëlosse, my lord. She has already stolen my heart!"

He stiffened, "If I cannot dissuade you from coming to Dol Guldur, you will need a good horse. My lady, is there naught I can say that will keep you here in safety?"

"Naught, unless you also will remain."

"You know where my duty lies, Feia," Legolas was frowning.

"I have told you; I understand duty," she replied. "I know your duty, and I know mine."

Sorrow overwhelmed Legolas and stole away any argument he might have tried, for he could not unmake the decisions that had placed his lady in peril. He had been weak, and now Feia would pay the price for that weakness. Beyond speech, he kissed her instead, and he communicated much of his inner turmoil and his fear for her with the urgency of his mouth upon hers.

When he drew away at last they were both breathless. "Orenya, I must ease my mind and check on the preparations for the morning one last time. Wait for me?"

"I will await you within, Legolas."

It took some doing to remove the elaborate gown she had worn for the day's celebrations, and to change into a loose and comfortable robe, and so she had only just finished letting down her hair and was brushing it when Legolas returned. He froze in the doorway observing her in rapt fascination as she sat on the edge of their bed, drawing a brush through the lustrous fall of copper, bronze and warm brown.

Without remembering how he had come to be there, Legolas knelt before his lady. He gently removed the brush from her loose fingers and kissed her hand fervently, "I never knew that I could be undone by the sight of a woman brushing her hair." His voice was a deep and resonant caress.

She opened her arms for him, and he rose up over her taking her into his embrace. But there was something almost desperate in his touch - something uncertain, and in an unconscious response Feia clung to him as though she feared he might turn to smoke in her arms.

Chapter 23:

**An Elvish Matter **

At dawn, the courtyard of Rivendell was filled with elves and horses. Two hundred and forty elves, and their mounts plus thirty-two packhorses were prepared to follow Legolas to Dol Guldur, whilst those of Lord Elrond's household who would not be journeying thence were either gathered to give their blessing to the venture, or busily assisting with last minute details.

Feia was surprised to discover that Lord Elrond would add his sword and the weight of his presence to the quest. He stood, armed and armored, upon one of the balconies overlooking the gathering, flanked by King Elessar and Erestor, the counselor who would manage Elrond's household in his absence. Legolas, also wearing armor, was conversing with Glorfindel, Elladan, and Elrohir who would act as his captains, and with Haldir who, with his brother Rúmil, would lead the Lórien elves when the two forces were united.

"How many elves will join us from Lothlorien, do you think?" Feia asked.

Meg was checking Linnêl's gear one last time beside her sister who waited holding Yáviëlosse's halter. She paused, automatically scanning the courtyard until she found her husband before answering, "Haldir estimates perhaps half as many as are assembled here. No more than two hundred, in any event."

"It is a small force to meet over two thousand orc on an open battlefield." Feia had learned from Elladan that Dol Guldur was a fortress in name only. There were no walls to defend, though the towers of the rambling structure and the hill upon which it crouched would be defensive assets if the orc were clever enough to use them.

"If the orc defend Dol Guldur and do not meet us on the plains, it will not be an open battlefield; it will be a forest. That will give the elves an advantage and elves do not generally require an advantage." Meg grinned at her friend almost smugly.

Feia managed a smile in return, "That I will grant you." Then the woman's expression became pensive as she, too allowed her eyes to track to her husband. "If we are fortunate, we will be able to unlock the mystery of the spell which enthralls the woodland elves. That is the puzzle that occupies my mind. Were we to succeed, it would more than triple our force."

"A puzzle indeed, for we have virtually no clues to work with," Meg cautioned. "But if fortune does shine upon us and we find a way to free them, it still may take some time for them to recover. We cannot count on the Mirkwood elves to bolster us. I pray that we shall not be forced to fight them."

"Fight them?!" Feia stared at Meg, horrified, "Why under the Light would we fight them?"

"I have been considering the problem, also, Feia. The woodland elves are suffering under a spell that causes them to sink into a state of apathy. Then, one and all they are drawn to Dol Guldur. That terrible place is now Thranduil's seat. Does the spell originate with the King of the Mirkwood elves, or does it emanate somehow from the evil fortress itself? If the answer is the latter, then could it not be that the same evil magic is also responsible for Thranduil's madness? Is it some flaw in Thranduil which causes him to turn away from the Light, or was he simply the first to succumb to the spell - a foreshadowing of what will become of all the elves that dwell under its influence?"

"What a truly hideous thought," Feia whispered. "I pray you, sister; do not speak of this theory to Legolas! If the possibility has not yet occurred to him, let us not add it to his burden. He carries enough!" With a sigh, Feia added, "Now I am motivated more than ever to solve this conundrum. The only way that Legolas may walk away from this without further injuries upon his heart is if he is not forced to kill his father – or any other elf. The only bloodless solution is to find the root of the spell, or spells, which afflict my husband's father and his people."

"I agree," Elessar stated as he joined them, leading Roheryn. "I agree and so does Lord Elrond. That is why he is accompanying us. He has a formidable mind, and he has already set it to the study of this problem."

"This news eases my heart, Sire, and yet…" Feia paused, shaking her head, "I worry for Legolas. How I wish this quest were already behind him! How much more must he endure?"

"He has a small army of elves at his back, his friends around him, and the not insignificant power of Elrond Halfelven working on his behalf," Elessar said. "Add to that a wife who guards him with fierce devotion and the fact that he is, after all, Legolas of the Fellowship and how can he fail?"

"You are having fun with me!"

"Only a little," Elessar placed his hand on her shoulder and grew serious. "He does not want you to be there, lest he fall. If you must come to Dol Guldur, my lady, show neither fear nor doubt. If he forgets that you are strong for even a moment, his desire to protect you may be his undoing. Do not fail in this!"

"I have expressed my last misgiving, my liege," Feia agreed. "I will not fail him!"

"I do not doubt it."

XXX

_Ëarlinden, Vardasén, Eithelisse, Ortanemá, Únainië, Alphmorna, Isillúva, Luinëmir, Tiërandir, Auremae, Menelhenneth, Fimloth and Nimírië._

Thirteen missing elves. Queen Nenuiel huddled in counsel with the remnants of her people yet unafflicted by the spell. There were not many more than twenty left. The woodland elves spent the days caring for their stricken brethren in the shadow of the Hill of Black Magic and the nights in an ever-moving camp, attempting to stay out of the hands of orc. But thirteen of their charges were missing. Thirteen elves that, six days ago, had been if not well, at least alive and accounted for. And days of searching had yielded no trace of them.

"It is time we abandon our freedom, my friends," she said as the litany of names ran in her mind again and again: _Ëarlinden, Vardasén, Eithelisse..._ "It may be that Thranduil has abandoned our people utterly to the mercies of his horrid army. How else could so many simply vanish? If even the dubious protection which his presence afforded them has been lifted, we may only help our people if we risk all and stay with them both day and night."

"My Queen," faithful Galion began, "we may not go armed at Dol Guldur by night, or the orc shall know we are not cowed by the spell. If our people are attacked, we could not defend them."

"It is time, Galion," Nenuiel answered, "If we are not with them, we cannot defend them at all. Amongst them, at least we may try." _…Ortanemá, Únainië, Alphmorna…_ "We are so few! Soon enough the spell will have us all and we shall be at the mercy of our mortal foes – but not yet! When we slip into orc held territory tomorrow under the sun, there we shall stay when the sun has gone in order to do what we may."

"Your Majesty," Suluin ventured, "Have we any hope that aid will come to us?"

"I do not know," the queen said honestly. "I can no longer discern what is Sight and what is a mother's wish. But I have not given up my faith, Suluin." _…Isillúva, Luinëmir, Tiërandir, Auremae…_ "Perhaps from within Dol Guldur, we will discover some cause to hope. It is my intention to face my husband tomorrow evening. I do not think there is much chance in reason, but I must try it once ere the end."

"Nenuiel!" Galion exclaimed, "The king is well and truly mad! You saw what he did to Legolas! Surely you do not believe he would hesitate to harm his wife when he so nearly killed his son!"

"Someone must try, and mine is the best chance. Perhaps if I ask him about those who have gone missing it will cause him to see reason. Thirteen elves! I cannot believe they are alive when we have found no trace of them." _…Menelhenneth, Fimloth, and fair Nimírië._ "Surely that will gain Thranduil's attention!"

"I fear it may be long past the time when anything will reach him, my queen," Galion said on a sigh. "But if you are determined, I shall go with you; and may the grace of the Valar protect us!"


	5. Summerland Chapters 24 to 29

**Naeore Laerien** (Summerland of the Heart)

Chapter 24:

**Omen of Death **

It had taken long to render down the blood of the sacrifices and make with it the thirteen massive candles that were central to the spell, but at last preparations were complete. It pained him to have to resort to so extreme a measure as a spell of this magnitude, but Thranduil was fighting for the future of the elves. Any personal sacrifice on his part must be endured for the greater good.

As the elven king trimmed the wick of the thirteenth candle and placed it carefully in the diagram he had drawn upon the floor an orc shambled in.

"Master, there is news!"

His lip curled in distaste and Thranduil wondered again whether it was truly necessary to use these creatures, but until the threat to the elves was past he would employ whatever tools came to hand. There would be time enough to exterminate these twisted beings, then.

"I gave instructions that I was to remain undisturbed, yrch!"

"But, my lord said you wanted to be told when them sent to dispatch the prince got here. They was ambushed, master, by elves come out from the Hidden Land! Only Griszilk and his lads made it. They never saw no sign of the prince."

"Of that much I was already aware. But elves set against me! This I do not understand." Thranduil paced, rubbing his jaw, "It matters not! I am prepared to do what I must. In time they will see…

"Have Griszilk executed and replaced. I cannot have servants that fail and flee! Now leave me and let it be known that the next to disturb me will be meat for his fellows tonight."

"My Lord!" the orc acknowledged and backed quickly from the chamber, closing the heavy door.

So motivated was the creature to put distance between itself and its master that it saw nothing of the two who were skillfully concealed in the shadows. When it had gone, the pair slipped close enough to observe the centermost tower of the keep through the murder hole in the door. What they saw was more terrible than even their worst imaginings.

Thranduil was completing a circuit within the round room, his maddened eyes and his jeweled torque afire in the flickering light of torches set in brackets upon the wall. He carried a bowl into which he dipped his fingers, and with his hand dripping thick and dark with blood, he traced a symbol upon the stone. Similar marks had been placed at intervals about the room, and this was the last. When it was complete, the torque around Thranduil's neck suddenly shone more brightly and there was an answering blaze in the symbols of blood until it seemed they caught fire and burnt themselves into the wall. When the flames died, the symbols were a faintly glowing sickly green and there was a sulfurous stench in the air.

Then the elven king looked up at the high windows as though to gauge the time, and moved purposefully to the stone table centered within the tower. About this altar a diagram of white chalk and many foul symbols had been drawn. Set at intersecting points in the diagram there were thirteen enormous candles of a strange and disturbing color, like rust. Hanging over all was a heavy brass gong.

Thranduil set the stone bowl in the center of the table, and held what looked to be a bit of rope over it upon his open palm. He mumbled some words that the listeners could not catch, and then he took what he held by an end and held the other to a glowing coal from an iron brazier set also upon the table. When the flickering torchlight shone upon it, it became clear that this was no rope, for it was glowing golden and alive, as it had before it was severed.

Nenuiel gasped, dismayed. Whilst she had treated her son's many wounds, it had not escaped her notice that a bit of his braid had been cut. And now Thranduil was engaged in some hideous rite using their son's hair!

With only one thought, Legolas's mother fumbled for the handle of the door – whatever was about to happen must not be allowed! But Galion seized her shoulder forestalling her and spoke urgently into her mind, _"Look at the handle, my Queen, he has warded the room against intrusion. I do not know what would happen were you to touch it, for these arts my king uses are foul!"_

And indeed an ominous light of spectrous green bathed the iron door latch. _"Did you see, Galion? He has Legolas's hair! I fear what he will do! I fear what he has already done."_

_"Let us watch and listen, Nenuiel. We cannot stop him, but if we learn what he intends we may be able to counter it!"_ was Galion's response.

The bit of braid was smoldering and Thranduil knelt with it before one of the tall candles. Then spoke in a clear and terrible voice, "ghâsh agh burzum krimpûkhai…"

The queen moaned as the black speech seemed to pass through her, freezing her blood. Galion flinched, but forced himself to listen. Their purpose was to discover what Thranduil meant to accomplish, and he was determined to succeed; even if every syllable his king uttered was as a hammerstroke upon his mind. Then Thranduil lit the candle with Legolas's burning hair and the gong hung above the table sounded as though struck.

Suddenly it was as if the earth beneath them had become one gigantic echoing gong, it shuddered beneath their feet with a cavernous boom and Galion put a supporting arm around Nenuiel whose eyes were wide with horror.

By the third repetition of the spell and the third resonant quaking, Galion had worked out the meaning of Thranduil's words. One look at his queen told him that she had also divined the purpose of this evil sorcery. Her pale hands both clutched at her heart and she buckled at the knees, slowly sliding down the wall.

A fourth rumbling gong sounded and a fine powder of masonry filled the air. "I must get you away from here, your majesty!" Galion said, not bothering with mind-speech or even to keep his voice low, for Thranduil was all but bellowing the appalling spell a fifth time. Galion tried to help his lady to rise, but she was numbed with shock, so instead he lifted her and carried her, stumbling from the fortress as the earth heaved once more.

There was confusion all around the Hill of Black Magic with orc running in every direction. That is all that saved the fleeing elves, for the sun was a memory of twilight, now. This was orc time.

Into the woods Galion sped with the queen in his arms while a sixth quake shuddered, until he came to the place where their stricken people with their few hale fellows would seek sanctuary through the night. There he laid Nenuiel beneath a sheltering tree and wrapped blankets about her, for she was like ice. Chafing her wrists, he called to her again and again, until at last her eyes fluttered open and she spoke on an anguished moan, "Tûr nin údan sén nin!" _My lord would unmake my son!_

Then Nenuiel clutched once more at her heart and would say no more. The elves not anesthetized by the sickness gathered close, anxious to know what evil transpired in Dol Guldur and what was amiss with the queen. But Galion could offer them no comfort, for as the gonging continued seven more times, a dread suspicion grew in his heart. This was necromancy, and necromancy requires sacrifice. Thirteen candles had stood in the tower.

Thirteen candles for thirteen elven lives – elves that had lived for thousands of years. Immortal elves whose lives need not have ended – murdered by the hand of their king.

_Ëarlinden, Vardasén, Eithelisse, Ortanemá, Únainië, Alphmorna, Isillúva, Luinëmir, Tiërandir, Auremae, Menelhenneth, Fimloth and sweet, fair Nimírië._

XXX

Even traveling in numbers, elves could travel like wind. They had sped through the day with the briefest of stops to ease the horses, and kept on until the last rays of the sun were visible.

Whilst the camp was being prepared, Haldir and Legolas strode the perimeter together as had become their habit, familiarizing themselves with its layout. But as they passed the horselines the air froze in Legolas's lungs without warning and he shuddered as icy fingers squeezed his heart.

Haldir halted when he realized his friend had fallen behind. "Legolas, what ails you?" he asked in concern when he saw the sudden pallor of his companion's face.

The prince's eyes were wide, "Evil!" he whispered. "Can you not feel it?"

But Haldir did not - not until the shivering echo of a gong followed the first guttural hiss of dark speech. Legolas gave a cry of pain and grief the depths of which gave Haldir pause, and crumpled where he stood to lie writhing upon the ground.

XXX

Meg was stirring the contents of a cook pot, when the fire began suddenly to dance in the windless night. Lord Elrond sat forward in alarm just as words of evil blew through the camp like an omen of death followed by a tremor that was as much heard as felt.

"What is that, my lord?!" Feia asked looking around as though for an approaching foe.

The spell sounded again, slightly louder now, and Elrond leapt to his feet, "It is Thranduil!"

"Legolas!" Gimli cried and was running in search of his friend before the second heaving shudder began. Feia with Elessar ran hard on his heels with Lord Elrond and Meg following closely.

The dark speech, loud enough now so that all the elves they passed were wincing and covering their ears, had come again and gone, along with a third resonant rumble when Gimli skidded to a halt, for Haldir shot out an arm to forestall him from interfering. The others were each halted in turn.

A sickly green mist surrounded Legolas who was pale and gasping; sheen of perspiration slicked his brow and his eyes fluttered and rolled showing whites.

Haldir warned, "Legolas has said that we must not…" But Feia was already pushing past his restraining arm toward her fallen husband.

"Do not let it touch you!" Legolas grated between pain-clenched teeth.

Then the foul spell came again and Legolas moaned, his back arching, heels scoring the earth. The unwholesome mist grew thicker and swirled around him. And when the fourth gong sounded he called out weakly, "Ada! úhen!" _Father! not this!_

Feia had frozen in place with both her hands pressed to her mouth. Her knees held her undependably, but Meg was holding her shoulders firmly and she leaned into her friend.

Elessar barked, "What can we do? Lord Elrond! _What!?"_

"Naught, I fear," the wise elf confessed as the earth heaved a fifth time. "This battle must be fought by Legolas alone."

"Can he beat it?" Elessar insisted, "What is the spell's purpose? Can it kill him?"

Legolas breath came fast and shallow, agony contorted his body and a continuous flow of tears streamed from his eyes and into his hair. When the sixth rumble came, he cried in despair, "Alphmorna!" And then the imperiled elf clutched at his heart with a groan.

"We will see whether he can beat it, for I cannot say." Elrond responded, frowning at Legolas from where he crouched beside the prone elf prince, just outside the thickening mist. "This spell is old and evil. I have not heard the words spoken aloud before, but I have seen the results of it. The Enemy used it to destroy elves' souls, so that he could twist and corrupt their bodies over time. _This_ is how orc were made."

Elrond paused as the horror of his words took hold of his listeners and the seventh gong reverberated through the camp. Then he said, "It can kill him. It is meant to worse than kill him"

"Light! Oh, Light!" Meg whispered, but Feia only gave a long low moan and slid to her knees drawing her sister with her.

"Come on, Laddie!" Gimli cheered his friend softly.

Lord Elrond began a whispered chant, holding his palms out toward the treacherous mist. It may be that there was nothing he could do, but that would not prevent his trying.

The spell repeated an eighth time, a ninth and Feia wondered if it would reach an end, or if it would continue to wear away her husband's strength until none was left.

Ten…eleven…Legolas lay almost still, now, though his chest rose and fell with each rasping breath. He was fighting for every one. The seething mist hung so heavily over him that it seemed it sought to smother him.

At each repetition of the spell, the words came louder and clearer until they might have been coming from everywhere, even from inside their minds. Many of the elves had fallen, clutching at their heads. But some, like Glorfindel and the son's of Elrond, who were able to interpret the words, sought out Legolas in his peril.

Haldir kept each of them back from his suffering friend. A twelfth repetition of the spell caused the afflicted elf to gasp deeply and choke as the evil green substance rushed down his throat. His body arched again as he struggled to expel it, gagging.

"Meg!" Feia cried, clinging to her friend's arms where they circled her shoulders.

"I cannot help him if I cannot touch him, Serafé!" Meg answered the unspoken plea.

Glorfindel sank into a crouch on the opposite side of Legolas from Lord Elrond and, mirroring him, also began to chant softly.

At the thirteenth gong, Legolas rolled shakily to his elbows and knees. Feia heard him whisper, "Nimírië…" But then he collapsed to lie unmoving, his limbs unable to support him. At that moment, the mist simply ceased to be.

Before Feia could move, both Elessar and Meg were crouching beside the motionless elf. Lord Elrond and Lord Glorfindel continued to chant softly for a few moments, but when they stopped an unnatural quiet settled over the encampment.

Elessar rolled Legolas over and his fair skin showed pale white - the fey light of an elf extinguished from him. Feia was immobile with dread, fearing confirmation of what her eyes were seeing. Gimli had taken Meg's place at her side. He tightened his hold on her and she relied wholly on the burly dwarf's strength.

"Meg…" Feia managed.

The elven healer had her lain her hand on Legolas's brow and she shook her head perplexed, "There is nothing to heal, and yet I sense injury – _serious_ injury."

All at once, Legolas gasped and his eyes flew open – wide with horror and grief. Blinking rapidly his gaze flickered over his friends, his wife, and the high elven lords almost without recognition, but it seemed then that his thoughts ordered themselves for he curled in upon himself with a cry. The sound was distinctly elvish; an almost primal howl of grief, and it went on endlessly. Feia felt it tear a vast gulf between them, for she could never comprehend this kind of pain. Humans simply could not cope with as much.

When Feia had faced the loss of her home and her people, there had been times when she might have believed she were grieving each of her losses one by one – and perhaps she had been! To embrace the depth and breadth of her pain would have caused her to go mad! And so her mind and heart had healed one tiny piece at a time. Legolas's mind and heart were not giving him that option.

When the ululating cry ceased and Legolas lay winded and still, Lord Elrond said sternly, "Legolas!"

"Úpedo utuán marsi!" Legolas all but moaned. _Do not ask that I remain!_

Gimli caught his breath at Feia's ear, and she said shakily, "What can he mean?! What is he saying?" Gimli only braced her more firmly as she sagged into him.

"Yatiënna nályë, Thranduilsén?" _What path will you choose, son of Thranduil?_ Elrond asked.

Elessar gasped at this tactic, for it seemed to him most cruel to persuade the elf to live by means of the burden of his birth. And yet, perhaps painful duty would work where the love of his friends would not. Love forgives. Duty is merciless.

The prince of the woodland elves was trembling violently. With enormous effort, he rose up on his arms and worked his knees under him. Haldir hated to contemplate what the exertion was costing his friend. He longed to lend a steadying hand, but sensed it would not be welcomed. Instead he crossed to his wife's side where she knelt, thwarted in her desire to give healing aid. She looked up at him mutely when he touched her shoulder, but she did not resist as he helped her to rise and guided her a few steps away.

Legolas had made it nearly to his feet, but he collapsed back to hands and knees and was forced to try again. As his legs gave way, Haldir saw Elessar make an involuntary move toward the fallen elf, hand outstretched, but then the king arrested the motion, allowing his hand to drop. When Legolas struggled up again, he managed a teetering step toward the dark fringe of the camp.

"Nályëian?" _Are you whole?_ Lord Elrond asked, but Legolas ignored him and continued to stumble away. Legolas! Stumbling. Feia wanted to help him, she wanted to weep; she thought she might be sick.

"Legolas! Nályëian?" Elrond insisted.

Legolas paused, but would not meet Lord Elrond's eyes. "Nas unen!" the grieving elf whispered. _It matters not!_

Elrond moved in front of Legolas and gripped the woodland elf's jaw, forcing him to meet his gaze. "Nályëian?!" Elrond demanded.

Legolas squeezed his eyes shut and sobbed in a breath, "Thonden nae ore iënin ná otanet onin." _The root of my soul is torn from out of me._ Then, "Hiruvalyë e fimlain námarren na nwalme nin." _But a slim thread remains to torment me still._

Turning away from the elven lord, Legolas added a whispered, "Maruvan." _I will abide._ And lurched away, coming up short when he saw Feia kneeling in Gimli's arms.

Feia felt her heart constrict when those eyes locked upon her and she watched as they flickered through emotions more rapidly than she could identify them. At last her concinnate said, "Return to Rivendell. Take the gate to Gwynedd…and close it."

The finality of that statement – of that _order,_ caused Feia physical pain. But she straightened, letting Gimli's arm fall away, and then she stood and answered with remarkable calm.

"No."

Legolas flinched and closed his eyes. "You are not wanted here," he rasped. In the firelight, Feia could see that sweat drenched her husband, and his breathing was uneven. He did not appear capable of standing, much less walking, but he looked her in the eye and said, "Get out of my sight!" and with that Legolas limped into the darkness to be alone with his grief.

Chapter 25:

**They Shall Have No Rest**

As Feia stowed her gear, Elessar, Gimli and Haldir observed her silently. Meg however, had no trouble finding her voice.

"You will not truly return to Gwynedd," she was nearly convincing in her confidence, but she spoiled it by asking, "will you?"

Feia paused to give Meg her flat, expressionless gaze for a moment, and then returned to gathering her things.

Meg answered herself, "No! No of course you will not." Then she tried, "He could not have meant…He would not want you to go! Not forever." She looked at Haldir, "Would he?"

Then she answered herself again, shaking her head, "He is grieving, and injured. I could sense it, but I could not heal it." Meg's voice did nothing to disguise her professional affront that a thing she could sense as wrong would not submit to her healing skill, but she continued, "He is not thinking clearly – that is all. You are his concinnate, what he feels for you is powerful – but it is still new. With everything else…perhaps it is just too much."

Her pack ready, Feia slung it over her shoulder and stood. Elessar stepped in front of her, "It is too dangerous now for one person to travel alone! Take Gimli with you! Together, you will have a better chance of getting through. Go to Minas Tirith. I do not doubt that Arwen would be pleased to have a female friend with her."

Feia smiled slightly, "Befriending your wife is an honorable charge and one I should very much like, but you misunderstand my intentions, Sire. I am not leaving. And if I were, I would not take Gimli even if he would go. Legolas needs every bow, every sword, and," she smiled down at Gimli, "every axe. You cannot think that Gimli would leave him, now?"

"I would if it were to protect his heart!" Gimli said gruffly, "Your sister is right, lassie! The lad is not thinking clearly, speaking to you as he did. If you went away and aught happened to you, he could never forgive himself. And never is a mighty long while for his lot. I would leave him for that – for both of ye!"

Feia reached out and gently brushed the dwarf's craggy face. So dear! So dear he had become in the weeks she had known him – the more for his devotion to her beloved. "Thank you, my lord," she said and then turned back to the king. "But as I said, I am not leaving. He told me to take the gate and not return. That I will not do! But I can and I will honor his second request. If the sight of me causes him pain, then he shall not see me. I am moving my camp to where the pack animals are picketed and there I shall remain invisible."

"Not alone!" Meg said firmly, and began to quickly gather her own belonings. Feia waited. There was wisdom in holding one's tongue when Meg used that particular tone, since arguing with it was the next thing to impossible. And Feia did not wish to be by herself. She was not sure she could bear the gnawing loneliness within her and also be alone in truth.

When Meg was ready, the elven lady rose up on her toes and kissed Haldir's cheek, "Keep that troublesome elf safe, my love, for when he is sufficiently recovered I will want the opportunity to gift him with the rough side of my tongue!"

"Nás navelyë pedo, bereth nin!" _It shall be as you say, my wife!_ Haldir responded with a slight smile and a bow.

It took little enough time to find an out-of-the-way spot, still within the encampment's perimeter, and build a small fire for their night's camp. But when the chores were complete and there was nothing further to do with her hands; Feia simply folded in upon herself. She drew up her knees, hugging them, and wept inconsolably.

Meg gathered her sister close and held her until, too exhausted to continue, Feia slept.

XXX

The sorrow of Lady Feia was painful to witness, and Haldir thought it unlikely that she would welcome her distress being overheard, so the elf moved as silently away from the ladies' fire as he had approached it.

He had sought his wife's camp so that he could mark where she and her sister could be found if anything were to happen, for he would see to their safety. Stopping briefly to inform a sentry on duty of the camp's addition, he headed for his own rest, but he found instead that his feet carried him in the direction he had last seen Legolas.

He came upon Elessar as he searched, and they fell in together without comment. The king's face was grim and set.

Haldir heard his friend before he saw him, for Legolas's breathing was still unnaturally labored. With his back pressed to a boulder, the starlight absorbed by his too-pale skin, Legolas sat in a posture that mirrored his wife's, had he but known it. His legs were drawn up and he huddled over his knees.

"Do not ask me to speak of it," Legolas said without looking up.

"Tell me, or do not," Haldir replied squatting easily. "I am not asking."

"Nor I," Elessar said as he leaned a hip against the rock.

They stayed that way in silence for some minutes, all three studying the stars. Finally Legolas said, "Has she gone?"

"Not where you would have her go," Haldir responded neutrally. This pronouncement was followed by another long silence, and from the corner of his eye Haldir watched his friend contending with the information. Then the elven prince shook himself.

"He means to obliterate my soul. He killed in order to ensure that he succeeded." His friends could tell that it was taking a supreme effort on Legolas's part to speak these words at all, much less in the almost level voice in which he delivered them, and so the Lórien elf and the king did not interrupt. Both sensed that there was more.

"Each time the spell repeated I saw him cut them down one by one. I could see their faces…and their blood. Thirteen!" Legolas shivered and his voice sounded hollow and hopeless, "My father murdered thirteen elves! They are dead because he wanted me worse than dead. They are dead because of me!"

Haldir swallowed his alarm; he could no longer remain silent. "They are dead because Thranduil is mad!" He said emphatically. "How else could he have harmed you so grievously? The madness killed them, Legolas!

"It was in no way your fault, my friend!" Elessar added. "There is nothing you could have done to save them!"

Legolas dropped his head into his arms and kept silent for so long, Haldir feared that the woodland elf would speak no more. And there was more that Legolas needed to say, of this Haldir was sure. But finally Legolas stirred and raised his head.

"Ortanemá showed me how to fletch my first arrows," he said. "Tiërandir took me hunting when I was too young and inexperienced to be of any use. I watched him and I learned how to track and take the tree paths. Únainië sang to me when I was very small. Menelhenneth taught me how to read and write and instructed me in the history of our people. He taught Nimírië and me together, for we were raised together. We learned _everything _together, but my father cut her throat and she is dead! They are, all of them, dead!"

Tears streamed openly down Legolas's face and he made no move to brush them away. Haldir's eyes were also wet and Elessar's breath caught with grief. It was Tiërandir's example that the king had followed as well, when learning his woodcraft. He had met all of the elves that Legolas had named. Immortal elves.

"They would be greatly comforted to know that the spell was unsuccessful," Haldir said. "Were it me, my spirit could not rest knowing my life had been spent in order that another's soul might be unmade!"

"Then there shall be no rest for them. The spell will succeed. It is not yet finished."

Legolas's words fell upon Haldir and Elessar with an almost physical weight and they each gazed in horror at their friend. "But you fought it! Legolas, you _beat_ it!" the king exclaimed.

"The first assault, only," Legolas answered. "Perhaps it would be better had I not," the elf paused again, and then his voice dropped to a whisper as he admitted, "I do not fear death, but this!…I fear this."

Haldir shuddered. Legolas should not – _must _not end that way! There had to be a way to nullify what Thranduil had done. But as his mind frantically sought an escape for his friend, Legolas spoke again, "I shall need you to rouse the camp at third watch. We may not tarry, for my time is short. If I am to fulfill my duty before the end, we will be required to travel by day and by night."

Haldir was sick in his heart, but he responded, "We will rouse the camp, Legolas." As he stood and made ready to go, however, Legolas said, "Elessar, Haldir, úpedo na hen!" _speak not of this!_

Elessar's voice was tight, "As you wish, Legolas." Haldir only nodded, unable to use his voice, and moved, his steps heavy, toward the camp with the silent king at his side.

XXX

Feia was not precisely hiding from Legolas. There was really no way that she could do that, for even with her cloak about her, and her hood drawn up, he would know her on sight. And with Yáviëlosse for her mount and Meghailin, who rode, (likely on purpose) with her mass of eye-catching curls uncovered beside her friend, Legolas would have to be both blind and not an elf to have missed her in the entourage. She estimated he might have remained unaware of her presence until two or three hours past first light, if that. But she did her best to stay out of his way and he seemed content to pretend for the moment that he did not notice her.

The quest had grown in urgency since last night. Feia knew that Thranduil's spell had caused the change, but still she had been surprised when Haldir came to them at the end of the second watch and bade them prepare to leave at once. Legolas, with Gimli behind him on Arod remained mostly near the front of his small army, but he had made a circuit at mid-morning to speak with each of his captains and to allow the other elves to see him. Elves are not inclined toward idle gossip, but the spell had disturbed them greatly and there was much quiet speculation.

If Legolas meant to reassure them, however, he did not succeed, for his face was drawn and pale, and his eyes appeared sunken, the flesh around them bruised with weariness. Feia's brief glimpse of him was enough to fill her heart with compassion for him. _Hold on, edhel nin! _She prayed silently. _Oh, Light, Legolas please, hold on._

Late that afternoon, Rúmil, Haldir's brother, joined them with his force of Lórien elves. There were nearly one hundred and eighty of them. Legolas, with Gimli, rode in a tight group with his captains, Elessar, and Lord Elrond, while Rúmil was briefed on the current state of the quest. But when the combined army paused for a short rest and evening meal, Haldir and his brother joined the ladies.

When Haldir introduced his wife to his brother, Rúmil bowed over Meghailin's hand saying, "It is regrettable that I was unable to be there for your wedding day, my lady, but it fell to me to harry your pursuers. When all this is done, if the Valar protect us, we shall have long years to get to know one another. I am anxious to spend more time with the lady who could so quickly steal away my brother's heart!"

Rúmil had retained her hand throughout and his eyes fell upon the ring that had been Orophin's and which he had learnt, had begun Haldir's quest. He rubbed his thumb over the emerald, "It never looked so fair upon the hand of either of my brothers."

"Thank you, my lord," Meg responded with a slight blush.

"Save your charm for a lady who is unwed, my brother, and perhaps you may be as content as I one day," Haldir said.

"Mayhap you have begun a thing that will spread through elven-kind, Haldir," Rúmil responded, "for indeed, though our quest is dire, there is in you a core of untouchable joy which I could covet. Perhaps we have been wrong these many years to pass our time until we take to the sea in an ever changeless state of remembrance." The elf shook his head in silent wonder at his own words, for the thoughts that had prompted them did come upon him unawares. Then he said, "Shall I rehearse my charm then, on this fair creature who doth accompany my new sister?"

"I have no objection to being charmed, my lord," Feia said with a small smile, "but you would receive naught but practice for your trouble. My heart is given."

"A pity," the Lórien elf said bowing over her hand as well, as Haldir quickly introduced them. Then Rúmil added, "With the exquisite Lady Meghailin my sister, and the lovely Princess Serafé whose heart is given upon whom I may hone my skills, it could chance that I shall forget why I practice and remain instead a blissful slave to their untouchable beauty."

Feia's smile grew broad and seeing this Meg's heart warmed with gratitude for her outrageous brother-in-law. She curtsied, "My lord, I am entirely convinced that your charm requires no further rehearsal."

XXX

They rode through the rest of the evening and the night, stopping only of necessity to rest their mounts. By morning Gimli was exhausted, but the elves were able to take their rest as they traveled, and so they seemed as fresh as when they had begun, saving Legolas who appeared spent.

After breaking for the morning meal, Gimli hauled himself onto Arod's back with a fatigued sigh. "Are you ill, Laddie?" Gimli asked when Legolas failed to vault into place before him with his usual grace.

Legolas said, "I am weary."

"Hah, I have never heard you utter that word in reference to yourself in all of our acquaintance. When this is done, let us go and visit our friends in the Shire. Nobody knows how to rest and recuperate more capably than hobbits."

Legolas smiled sadly, not looking at his friend, "You only want to go to the Shire so that you can refresh your supply of Longbottom Leaf. I have noticed you are not smoking as much as usual! You must have run out."

"It's true, I wouldn't say no to a cask or two of Old Toby. The Gondorian pipeweed varieties are not the same, that's all," Gimli declared. "And if we're going to be relaxing, a good pipe is a fine way to take the edge off. Someday I'll persuade you to try it, and you will see."

"I think I can safely say that whatever happens, I do not see smoking in my future, my friend. You will have to peddle your bad habits elsewhere."

"Elves think they know everything!" Gimli complained good-naturedly. "It's a medicinal fact that smoking lengthens your life, not that you pointy-eared types care about that, of course."

"You can say as you like, since now you are immortal and there can be no proof of your claim," Legolas responded, but his heart was not in their bantering today and it showed.

Gimli enjoyed tweaking Legolas, especially if he thought it might help to lighten his burden for a time, but the elf did not seem up to it. Gimli sighed again. He had not seen Legolas look this terrible except on the night they had come so close to losing him. The night the ladies had healed him. "Laddie, could Lady Meghailin not aid you?" he asked seriously.

"No, my friend," Legolas said simply.

"What if…" Gimli was on dangerous ground and he knew it, but he had to ask, "What if she let her gift pass through Lady Feia. Could she not help you, then?"

Legolas stiffened noticeably, but he only said, "No. Not this time."

Gimli wisely let it drop, changing tactics, "You are pushing us hard. Do you have some knowledge that the plight of your people has worsened?"

Thirteen elves. _Thirteen!_ "Yes, it has worsened."

"When will we get there?" Gimli asked. He had never become accustomed to judging distances from the back of a horse.

"Sometime tomorrow morning, I should think," Legolas said. Would it be soon enough? Legolas wanted nothing so much as to lie down and allow the end come. If his physical body ceased, perhaps he would not feel it when his soul was ripped out of him and unmade. Perhaps he would not. But he had to go on. If he could free his people – If he could just do that! – Then it would be worth the price of his soul.

And maybe their freedom would also be worth dying – no! worse than dying, with the woman who held his heart looking on. _Why would she not go!?_

"Gimli, do something for me," Legolas began.

"Anything you ask, Laddie," Gimli pledged without hesitation.

"If, when we get there, things go badly for me – keep her away," Legolas silently cursed his voice which betrayed him with a tremor. "Keep her away until it is over, and…and take care of her."

"What aren't you telling me, Lad?"

"Please! Just promise it, Gimli!"

"Alright, Laddie, I'll take care of the lass."

"And keep her away!"

"Aye, I heard you," Gimli said in a troubled voice. "I will keep your lady away."

Chapter 26:

**Vessel with a Hole **

Meghailin thumbed through the appendices of "The Lord of the Rings," trusting Linnêl to follow if Yáviëlosse changed direction or speed. Tolkien said very little about Thranduil and little also about the time that the Enemy had dwelt in Dol Guldur. And events already differed from the accounts written there by the great author, so something had changed along the way other than the arrival of two Alderaani ladies. Still there might be some clue within these pages that would help. It could not hurt to be sure.

Yáviëlosse whickered anxiously and Meg looked up in time to see Feia nod in her saddle. "Feia!" she called, snapping the woman back to wakefulness in time to keep her seat. It had been near thirty hours since they had slept and Feia was not skilled at elven techniques of refreshing herself in other ways. Meg kneed Linnêl closer to her friend and laid a hand on Feia's crown, working the fatigue banishing spell as they rode.

"Thank you! That is better," Feia declared. "I will not drop off my horse at an inopportune moment this time, will I?"

"Nay!" Meg laughed, "You are not so depleted as that! But I have been remiss! I should have worked the spell on you earlier; and not only you!"

"Gimli," Feia nodded, "and Elessar. The king is not quite an elf, whoever raised him. You are right! Ride up and see to them, sister. I will be well until your return."

Meg pressed Linnêl to run for her, and the mare quickly moved up the ranks to where the king and the dwarf rode with Legolas and Lord Elrond. "Your Majesty?" she said, holding up her hand toward the king's brow in offer. Elessar smiled and dipped his head so that she could reach him. He felt a faint tingling this time, instead of the cool shiver of healing, but when the lady removed her hand, it was as though he had slept deeply for a full night.

"Well, that was very effective! I thank you, my lady," the king said. "It is a useful bit of healing magic and I think I have grasped how it is done, is there aught else I should know?"

"Only that it is rest which your patients borrow from themselves," Meg advised. "Eventually the interest comes due, and then they must pay with many hours of sleep and a few hearty meals. That is all Sire, except what you already know – it cannot be repeated indefinitely." The king nodded in thanks and committed the technique to memory.

Meg then rode to Arod's side and Gimli, who had been watching and listening, nodded gratefully when she lifted her hand to his head. "Ahhh," the dwarf sighed in relief as the spell took effect.

But when Meg raised her eyes to meet Legolas's mute stare she gasped aloud, "My lord!" she cried. He looked haggard! _An elf should not look thus,_ she thought, and automatically her hand went to his brow. But as she was began to work the spell he caught her wrist.

"It will do nothing for me this time, lady," Legolas said.

"It won't hurt either of us to try, my lord," she responded, and waited until he dropped his hand. Meg could feel the spell working, but also she felt the effects begin to drain away, as if Legolas were a vessel with a hole and his vigor was leaking out of him. He looked better, but she could see that he knew full well how very temporary it was.

"Thank you, my lady," was all that he said.

"My Lady Meghailin," Lord Elrond said, "Is that one of the texts of which I have heard, tucked there in your horse's blanket."

"It is, my lord," Meg responded, "Tolkien wrote a number of epilogues to the story which I hoped might offer a clue regarding our venture, but I have discovered that events diverge from what was recorded here from, best as I can ascertain, the wedding of the king and queen.

In fact, Lord Elrond, according to Tolkien you took ship for the west with the other ringbearers. Also it is recorded that Lord Celeborn did not, and yet it seems you have switched places. In regards to Dol Guldur, it is here reported that Lord Celeborn took possession of it and Lady Galadriel cleansed it after the War. After The Lady sailed from Middle Earth, it says that Lord Celeborn could no longer bear to remain in Lórien and he dwelt for a time at Rivendell, but then ruled a flourishing elven kingdom through much of the fourth age in Southern Mirkwood that became known as East Lórien. His demesne encompassed Dol Guldur.

Of Thranduil, very little is said. Only that he lead the elves in the Battle of Five Armies and repulsed an attack from Dol Guldur during the War of the Ring. It hints that he might have been guilty of a few excesses in regards to dwarves including the regrettable incident when Thorin and company were detained in Mirkwood. Lastly, he was given the charge of Gollum, but failed in that largely due to an over abundance of compassion.

I fear my research has been unhelpful."

"Perhaps not, my lady," Lord Elrond disagreed, "for you have given me something to ponder. May I look at the book?"

"Of course, my lord!" Meg handed the volume over.

"Do your epilogues convey any information regarding what becomes of the members of the Fellowship, my lady?" Gimli asked curiously.

"Things have changed too much for me to give you an accurate glimpse into your future, my lord," Meg responded. "The best I could offer you is what your futures might have looked like until they diverged at some point from what we know to be true in Tolkien's work. The man did not know he was channeling future events, so there is even the possibility that he may have made it all up so that the stories would have a sense of closure."

"Nevertheless, I admit to being curious," Elessar said. "Tell us what is written for our futures."

"Very well," Meg agreed. "Naturally we know that Queen Arwen shall give you a child, Sire. Tolkien says that she bears you one son, Eldarion, and many daughters."

Elessar's grin was full of wonder, and was, perhaps, a trifle smug.

Meghailin continued with the information provided about the hobbit members of the Fellowship and then she said, "Gimli and Legolas are the most widely traveled of the Fellowship, spending a good deal of time roaming about together, but they are also reported to have occasion for separate careers. Gimli is named Lord of the Glittering Caves and leads a group of dwarves in the careful nurturance of the beauty of the caves beneath the Hornburg, whilst Legolas leads a party of elves to assist in the reclamation of Ithilien."

"Lord of the Glittering Caves!" Gimli repeated in awe.

"Yes, my lord," Meg smiled. "It is your tale, master dwarf, which has always most moved me! You, a mortal who teaches an elf about bravery and about beauty, and rises above his prejudices to heal a long enmity with his love. This is Tolkien's last word on the Fellowship," she recited, "Then Legolas built a grey ship in Ithilien, and sailed down Anduin and so over sea; and with him, it is said, went Gimli the Dwarf." 1

"Well," Gimli said in a hushed voice, "Well!"

Legolas smiled gently. Gimli could not see his face sitting, as he was, behind the elf, but aloud the woodland prince said, "I cannot think of a more fitting reward for my friend than that."

"Well!" Gimli said again, and hastily rubbed at his eyes.

"You said that I was to have already sailed, but Lord Celeborn did not; and that he ruled the Southern Mirkwood?" Lord Elrond asked into the silence that followed.

"Yes, my lord," Meg answered.

"And Lady Galadriel was to have cleansed Dol Guldur?"

"That is correct."

"But instead Thranduil went to reclaim it. What did Thranduil not do that Lady Galadriel would?"

"My father is flawed," Legolas said very softly, "He wanted Dol Guldur to purge it of darkness, but also for the power possession of it offered. The Lady would have sought only to remove all evil from the place."

"So what evil did King Thranduil find which he did not, or could not purge?" Elessar asked.

"If we find the answer to that, we may discover the key to the spell which enthralls our people," Lord Elrond said. "You have helped with your research, my lady. Do not hesitate to share anything that may come to you as you ponder the question further."

"I shall not hesitate, my lord," Meg replied, bowing from her seat upon Linnêl's back. "With permission, my lords, I will withdraw to my former place in the entourage."

Legolas looked at her sharply with his heart in his eyes, then swallowed hard and turned away. The dark circles had begun to return; and his cheeks, which had gained color for a time after her spell, were already tinged with grey.

"Was there aught you wished to say, my lord?" Meg asked.

"Nay, my lady," the elf responded, "Wishing aside, there is naught I could say that would change anything."

XXX

That night, Legolas tripled the number of scouts sent out in every direction from the elven army. He did not want to lose the element of surprise, for the elves of Mirkwood, in their ensorcelled state, would make ready hostages. If the elven force came at the orc swiftly and elves were dispatched to protect his people, then perhaps no more would die.

He knew that was perhaps a fool's hope. They were riding into battle, some elves could die – but not if Legolas could stop it.

He had ridden with his captains again, after their brief evening rest, and a strategy had been agreed upon. They would camp for several hours after sunrise and plan to arrive at Dol Guldur at dusk. It would give the orc something of an advantage to fight by night, but Legolas remembered how spread out the woodland elves had been during daylight. With luck, at night they would remain closer together and therefore easier to protect.

The arrival of the war party would not be a complete surprise to the orc. They were almost certainly expected. But Legolas prayed that the creatures did not know when the attack would come, or how many were gathered against them. He refused to think of the orc as his father's army. They went to fight orc and save elves, not to do battle against his father and king.

That fight would be for Legolas alone. The more he considered it, the more he realized that he would have to go on by himself. He could not arrive at the front of an army and expect to ride directly to confront his father. And so, claiming that the spell had depleted him too greatly, which was true, Legolas attempted to cede leadership to Lord Elrond; but the patriarch of the elves refused, wishing to remain in reserve so that he could use his power to aid the elves. Command then fell to Glorfindel with Haldir as his second.

Elessar and Haldir knew full well what Legolas intended, though the elf did not care, so long as his friends did not interfere. Gimli also suspected something. Legolas could not lie to the dwarf outright and his faithful friend was meeting his omissions with considering silence.

He only needed time, Legolas thought. Time enough to confront his father and find a way to free his people, but time was slipping away along with his strength and his faith. He could feel them dwindling, all three, with every step that brought him closer to the Hill of Black Magic.

XXX

As had become his habit, every few hours Haldir dropped back to ride with his lady and her sister. And so he reported to them that Legolas had passed leadership to Glorfindel.

It was a matter of a moment for Feia to work out why. "He will be going in alone – ahead of the army! My lord, is he strong enough?"

"He is determined enough, my lady. That counts for a great deal," Haldir responded, and then he narrowed his eyes at her. "Do not attempt anything foolish, your highness! You could only hinder him and he would not thank you for it!"

"I am banished, my lord! His thanks are not a prize I am likely to attain. It is his life which is my concern!"

Haldir frowned, "His life is his to spend as he will, my lady."

"And is he likely to spend it, then?" Feia countered shrewdly. "Is he convinced the cost of freedom for his people is his life?"

"You do not need me to share my speculations in regards to what Prince Legolas is thinking, my lady. You are as capable as I am of guessing," Haldir declared. Preparing to go, the elf moved Hithui close to Linnêl in order to steal a moment with his wife.

Haldir took Meg's hand and kissed it, then held it to his heart. Meg squeezed his hand and said, "Cuioris anim." _Stay alive for me._

Haldir smiled reassuringly, "Cuioris _anim!_" _Stay alive for me! _With that he rode forward again.

"Was it just me, or did your husband hie away with noticeable haste?" Feia queried.

Meg considered for a moment, and then her eyes went to slits, "I feel the conversation was becoming uncomfortable for him. He is hiding something from us."

"What could he know that you at least could not hear?" Feia wondered.

"Anything that you are not to learn," Meg responded. "Haldir would not ask me to keep a thing from you; rather he would keep it from us both. Or it is something he has been asked to hold secret from everyone. In either case I long to learn it, for I doubt not who did the asking. Your husband holds too much within him. I swear he looked, when I saw him, as though at any moment he might fly apart."

"He is stubborn! At his age, one would think he might have learnt the lesson that a shared burden is lighter."

"Perhaps it is not so surprising; the elves of Middle Earth have turned mostly within. They do not easily look outwards for aid," Meg reasoned.

"I believe I have had ample opportunity to detect that trait," Feia agreed. "Now, what am I to do about it? That is the question I must ask myself."

"What are _we_ to do about it, sister," Meg corrected pointedly. "For you at least are capable of sharing your burdens, are you not?"

"Very well," Feia agreed, accepting her chastisement with good grace. "When the company stops in the morning, you and I must slip away and steal into Dol Guldur. I intend to do whatever I may to keep Legolas from being forced to take his father's life. There must be some other way to lift the spell!"

"If there is a way, we shall find it!" Meg promised.

1. Appendix B, The Return of the King, J.R.R. Tolkien

Chapter 27:

**Oaths of Fellowship **

Just as dawn's light became discernible to his eyes, Gimli noted a strange thing. Legolas, though fully armed, had discarded the armor he had been given to wear at Rivendell. He stood near the fringes of the camp with the hood of his Lórien cloak pulled up and as far forward as it would go. Elessar stood with him, and his armor also had been dispensed with.

The dwarf, knowing the workings of his friends' minds well, gasped in comprehension. Hastily checking to be sure that his weapons were all in place, he ran to intercept them.

"And where," Gimli huffed, skidding to a halt beside them, "do the two of you think you may be going!?"

"It appears I guessed rightly regarding our elven friend's intent, Gimli, and I have just caught him in the act of sneaking off to Dol Guldur alone," Elessar reported.

Legolas grimaced; minutes were speeding by. "I do not have time to argue anymore, Elessar. I must…" His voice trailed off as the earth shuddered with the sounding of a gong. The king steadied the elf as his knees buckled and he nearly fell. Legolas's eyes were round and dazed; he blinked several times, mastering himself. "A, Elbereth! I have no time!" he whispered.

"What is happening to you, Laddie? By the Lady, you are _shaking!"_ Gimli had been concerned by the uncharacteristic and un-elflike exhaustion that seemed to have taken hold of his friend, but now! The dwarf was horrified at the implications of what he was seeing. "Is it another spell?" he asked, already suspecting the truth.

"It is the same spell, Gimli," Elessar said with quiet sadness.

"The same…but I thought…"

"I must go," Legolas interjected, his voice registering his anxiety, "Now! I must go right now. If I cannot dissuade you, then come with me Elessar, but we leave at once."

"Not without me you will not!" Gimli said firmly, planting the haft of his axe at his side.

"No!" Legolas answered, "Nay, Gimli, I need you to keep your promise. Please!"

Gimli made a sound like a growl, acknowledging that he was effectively blocked. "You had better come back! Both of you!" but the dwarf was not a fool, and he had reasoned it out. Moisture stood in his eyes.

Legolas clasped Gimli's shoulder and gazed into his friend's face before speaking. "If ever…" he began, but faltered at sight of the naked grief that the dwarf could not disguise and was forced to begin again, "If ever I had taken ship to the west, I would have been proud to have you with me, my faithful friend." And with that, the elf was running through the mist of morning with the king, who had transformed once again into a ranger, loping at his side.

Gimli felt a dreadful weight of sorrow and loneliness settle in his heart while tears leaked into his beard unhindered. How could this be? How could the Fellowship end this way? The dwarf stood alone while watching the place where his friends had vanished. So it was that he happened to spy a movement, which at first he took to be a pair of elven scouts, hoods hiding their faces, slipping from the camp. But if that were so, they were particularly short scouts, Gimli thought, squinting into the mist. And then one of them turned to look over a shoulder back toward the camp and from out of the loose hood a pair of beaded braids swung.

"Oh, no, my bonnie lasses," Gimli muttered. "I do not think so."

It took a few minutes to intercept them. Feia had her short sword bared in her grip while Meghailin held her bow down at her side with an arrow knocked. They were moving with care, but speedily.

When Gimli came upon them he was greeted by the points of their weapons, "Ooo!" he said and put his hands forward, palms out.

"Lord Gimli!" Feia exclaimed, lowering her sword, "However did Legolas manage to sneak off without you? He is gone, is he not?"

"Feia…" Meg said in a subdued voice, for she had seen the drying tracks of tears on Gimli's weathered cheeks. Feia looked at Meg and back at Gimli. Then she pressed a hand to her stomach, "Oh, Light, that horrible sound – it was…! He is not…?"

"Nay, Lassie," Gimli said, "He's gone off with Aragorn. But you are not wrong…about the gong. I am sorry, dear lass. Let me take you back to camp, now."

"I am not returning to the camp, Gimli," Feia said. "I intended to find a way to end the spell which holds the woodland elves, thus sparing Legolas the grief of patricide. Now I have two spells to unravel. Your aid would be welcome, but Meg and I are going on regardless." She stepped away as though to continue her mission, but Gimli moved in front of her.

"I made a promise!" Gimli had his fists braced on his hips and his long handled axe held crossways before him like the ceremonial guards who had once stood before King Bail's throne room on Alderaan. "He does not want you to witness his end, and on my word you will not!" Gimli finished.

Feia made a small wordless sound of sorrow in her throat and Meg stepped forward slipping her hand into her sister's. Gimli watched with admiration as Lady Feia drew strength from her friend. She spoke evenly when she said, "I have done what I can to respect my husband's wishes, Lord Gimli, if in my own way. He does not want me at his side where I belong; and so I will stay away – but I will do so at Dol Guldur where, with faith and luck I may yet be of some help to him!

That was only a single gong, my lord. There were thirteen to start it; let us proceed on the premise that we have twelve more before hope is gone. Will you help me, good Gimli, or hinder me? I have come to care for you, but I will fight you if you attempt to stand between Dol Guldur and me. Choose!"

The dwarf laughed ruefully, "Lass, if ever I doubted it, you have proven yourself a worthy match for the Lad. Then his expression turned grim. "All I desire is to find a way to wake us all from this hideous nightmare, perhaps together we may find a way. I am with you, so long as you understand; if we fail, I will not let you near him."

"Agreed," Feia said, "Now, let us run!"

XXX

Legolas and Elessar covered ground swiftly. They had been running for about two hours when they entered the Southern Mirkwood. It was a treacherous place at the best of times, and now there was the danger of orc roaming about, so both of them were vigilant.

Or at least Legolas was attempting to remain vigilant. The past hours had been a challenge unlike any he had experienced before. He would be running with his usual elven grace and economy of movement when, unexpectedly, his muscles would not respond as they should and he would stumble. Or he would be scanning their surroundings with his keen vision when suddenly everything would go dim and blurred. When they paused to check the ground for signs, Legolas's breath hitched from exertion. Sweat covered him, but he felt chilled.

They were three hours into their journey to Dol Guldur and nearly there when the next gong sounded. Legolas clutched a tree branch to steady himself, for the ground seemed to list like the deck of a ship at sea. Then there was another gong, followed immediately by another - doubling and then trebling both the vertigo and the pain. Swift, inky blackness stole away his consciousness and Legolas knew no more.

When he awoke, Legolas was laid out on the ground with Elessar leaning over him anxiously. The king pressed a dampened cloth to his friend's brow. _Where are we?_ the elf wondered. _Why is it so cold? _

"Legolas?" Elessar's voice was taut.

"Nás ringwain." _It is very cold._ The sound of his own voice disturbed Legolas, for it quavered with weakness.

"You are ill, my friend," Elessar's concern was palpable. "You have a fever in your blood. That is why you feel cold."

Legolas focused on the trees around them. Mirkwood trees. Southern Mirkwood. Dol Guldur! "A, Elbereth, how long?"

"You have been out for nearly half an hour."

"Help me to rise!" When Elessar just stared at him, Legolas repeated, _"Help_ me, Elessar!"

"Legolas, there have been six repetitions of the gong." Elessar said as he eased his friend to a sitting position. "I think you passed into unconsciousness around the third or the fourth."

"There have been seven, then," Legolas felt as though the earth were still heaving.

"Along with the first one earlier, aye," Elessar confirmed, as he pressed a water skin into Legolas's hands.

The elf drank deeply. It helped, but he felt…wrong. "I have to go on, Elessar," Legolas whispered, "I have no alternative save to lie here and wait for the end. That is no choice."

"Come Elessar, help me get him up," said a voice from the trees, surprising both the ranger-king and the elf. But it was Lord Elrond, who it was said, could conceal himself in a breath of air if he chose.

"My Lord Elrond, he is seriously ill!" the king protested.

"We all have appointments to keep. Legolas must continue."

"You have had a Foreseeing, my lord?" Legolas asked.

Leaning down to brace Legolas at shoulder and elbow, the high elf lord responded, "I no longer fully trust that ability, for I cannot fathom how what I have Seen may be. But the pieces are all in motion and we have no choice but to make our move."

"Cryptic," Elessar complained as he and the elven lord assisted Legolas to rise.

Lord Elrond merely raised a fine arched brow at his son-in-law, but Legolas said softly, "A trait of the very wise, my friend." With visible effort, Legolas managed to keep his feet.

"Ha!" Elessar disagreed, staying close. He was prepared to support his friend if need be, but attempting to mask his intent from the elf, "It is an _elven_ trait! Ask my wife what she might like to eat for breakfast and before you know it she has you pondering the intricacies of frost patterns on the window glass, and you are never really sure in the end how that relates to food."

"It is a pleasant thing to have someone with whom to share the mysteries of nature, Elessar. Perhaps she was asking you to slow down and appreciate it before allowing your stomach to rule you," Legolas guessed as they began to move as swiftly as possible toward Dol Guldur.

"Then I suppose you are right at that, Legolas, it is a trait of the very wise."

"And also of elves," Legolas allowed, baring his teeth in a tight grin.

XXX

After the gong sounded just after dawn, Haldir had been visibly troubled. He soon learned that Legolas had gone, and that, not surprisingly, neither Elessar nor Gimli were to be found in the camp. Sometime later it was discovered that Lord Elrond had also disappeared.

Whilst Haldir met with the other leaders of their war party there had been six more repetitions of the gong. Seven of thirteen. It had begun with thirteen; it made sense, as such things went, that it would end with thirteen. Legolas was fast running out of time.

Glorfindel sensed the immediacy of Haldir's grief and began questioning him carefully. Before long, the high elf lord had guessed for himself what Haldir was not saying and why. Soon it was decided that despite the greater risk to the woodland elves, the elven force must move out sooner rather than late. Glorfindel seemed to believe that the outcome of their quest would be determined at the same time as the ending of the evil spell.

After Haldir had passed the word to his Lórien elves that they should make ready to depart at once, he sought his lady wife and her sister; but he did not find them. A rapid search of the encampment yielded no sign, and so he enlisted Rúmil to assist him. It was his brother who found Linnêl and Yáviëlosse tied to the picket line with the pack animals. Upon Linnêl's blanket had been pinned a letter with Haldir's name in a fine hand writ on the outside.

Haldir's stomach pitched queasily as his brother handed him the parchment. Rapidly he unfolded the letter and scanned the inside. Then, with a cry, Haldir vaulted onto Hithui's back before Rúmil could venture to ask what news the note contained. Placing a staying hand upon his brother's knee, he said, "Brother, you have duties!"

He had _too many_ duties! Hithui danced nervously as Haldir struggled to find a way to meet them all. "They have gone off to Dol Guldur! Alone! There are two thousand orc waiting out there!"

"From what you have told me of your lady and her sister, Haldir, they have been doing this sort of thing regularly for some time," Rúmil said reasonably. "They are as aware of the dangers as we are. Surely they would not have gone were they not confident that they could get through."

When Haldir just stared at his brother mutely, the other elf sighed, "Very well, we shall ask the sentries if the ladies were seen, so that we will know when they departed. Perhaps they went together with Prince Legolas, King Elessar, and Lord Gimli."

"Unlikely," Haldir shook his head, "Legolas would never permit it. They went _because _of him, though, that much is certain. I pray that Lady Feia is thinking with other than her heart in this, and that my wife is not following only with hers!"

"Ah! So that is where the fair lady's heart dwells. Is Prince Legolas aware if her regard?"

"They are wed," Haldir answered succinctly. When Rúmil's brows shot up Haldir shook his head adding, "It is complicated."

"Such is the way with matters of the heart, brother. Let us discover when your lady left the camp, and then we shall decide where your duty lies."

Chapter 28:

**The Hill of Black Magic **

When the hateful gonging reverberated over and over until there had been seven, Meg watched her sister very carefully. Feia was alert and focused, and she made no comment regarding the spell, but she flinched with each booming echo and her face was a study of determination at war with grief. Gimli hoarsely whispered the count interspersed with words in the language of dwarves that might have been either prayers or curses. In the cadences of dwarven speech, it was difficult to tell.

They had been moving at a steady jog over the rolling plains, but now they were under the trees of the Southern Mirkwood and the going was slower. Shivering as her elven senses detected the presence of a generalized brooding malice that permeated the surrounding trees, Meg said, "Ware, friends, this forest is disinclined toward guests."

"Marvelous," Gimli muttered, "just once it would be nice to travel through a pleasant and accommodating wood."

"Dol Guldur's hold over this part of Mirkwood is stronger than even we thought," a voice said. It belonged to an elf who stepped into Feia's path so that she was forced to come to an abrupt halt. He was tall, even for an elf, and he had an arrow knocked and his bow half raised. "You will find little pleasantness and no accommodation ahead master dwarf."

The newcomer continued, "I confess I am confounded by the sight of a dwarf, an elven lady, and a woman traveling through the wood, when all I thought to find were orc."

Meg saw the nearly frantic impatience in her sister's expression, quickly disguised by what Meg tended to think of as the Mask of The First. It was an expression that was carefully neutral, while somehow radiating competence, assurance and authority. Then Feia spoke with a voice that matched the face, "We are clearly not orc, master elf and neither are you; so let us all lower our guard. We are not enemies. I am Serafé Organa Naberrie," then gesturing to her sister she said, "and this is Meghailin, wife to Haldir of Lórien. Our dwarven companion is Gimli son of Gloin of the Misty Mountains.

I had not expected to find a Mirkwood elf yet unafflicted by the mysterious spell that ravages your people. Have matters improved for your brethren?"

"Nay Lady Serafé, matters are grim and getting worse by the day," the elf said. He had lowered his bow, though he left the arrow knocked. "I am Suluin of Eryn Lasgalen. I am one of only nine who remain unaffected by the illness. Eight if you do not count the Queen who is badly afflicted by grief.

The appearance of Gimli son of Gloin, who is known to be Prince Legolas's friend, here in the Southern Mirkwood with obvious knowledge of our plight gives me hope that the prince yet lives and that help is forthcoming. That this particular dwarf appears without the prince causes me to fear that he does not and it is not. When last I saw Legolas, I had reason to doubt that I would see him again."

"Legolas has lead a force of elves, now under command of Lord Glorfindel, who await the fall of night to come to the aid of your people," Gimli said. "These ladies and I are attempting to discover the source of the spell which causes this…illness, and that which threatens your prince, for the lad's strength is failing."

"It is more than I hoped, and much as I feared," Suluin responded, laying a hand over his heart. "Those of us who remain hale amongst my people struggle to keep the others well and safe, and we are now so few that we do not venture far from them any longer; but this morning I felt compelled to slip away and come to this place. Perhaps I am meant to guide you – and yet I am reluctant to lead these ladies any closer to the peril that waits at Dol Guldur."

Meg stepped forward, setting a hand lightly on the elf's arm, "My lord, I am a healer," she said. "If I can find a way to use my skills to aid your people, I will; but I cannot help from afar. Lady Serafé is motivated by love to add her skills to the aid of the prince's quest and searches for a way for him to both succeed and survive! Your reticence to endanger us will not stop us from seeking Dol Guldur with or without your guidance."

"Then follow my ladies, my lord, but with care for these woods hold many dangers and Dol Guldur, toward which we journey, is a lair of great evil."

XXX

Galion hovered anxiously beside his queen. Nenuiel had not spoken and had hardly stirred in the days since the spell was cast against her son. But now, as one by one the enormous candles set in the central tower of the keep burned low and guttered out, the spell was reaching its end; and Nenuiel moaned fitfully with every repetition of the gong.

There had been nine. Only four were left before hope was gone for the prince and, Galion feared, for the prince's mother. The few others who remained to look after their ensorcelled people looked to Galion for leadership, but he had little to give them in the way of encouragement.

As the king's former aid waited at his queen's side, Suluin arrived and addressed him, "My Lord Galion, I chanced upon these folk who bring news for the Queen and an offer of assistance."

When the elven lord looked up, Meg was moved by the sorrow that was a living thing behind his eyes. "I am a healer, my lord! May I?" she said with a gesture toward the queen.

"By all means, my lady, but the queen mourns her son and healing will be of little use to her," Galion said.

Feia stood straighter at Gimli's side, prepared to protest, but Gimli was quicker, "Legolas is not dead, my lord. Your queen mourns him prematurely!"

Galion sighed, "The king has set an evil spell to unmake the prince's soul, master dwarf. Even now Legolas must suffer abominably. There is cause enough to grieve for him, and the time for mourning is almost nigh. Why do you come here – a dwarf, an elven healer, and a woman? What aid could you possibly offer?"

Feia answered, "My lord, I am Serafé Organa Naberrie. My sister, Meghailin, as she has said, is a healer; and this is Gimli son of Gloin, your prince's friend and companion. The elves of Rivendell and Lórien, lead by Lord Glorfindel, have gathered to come to your aid. We three are here to seek a way to end the evil magic that troubles you and threatens Legolas's life. Is there aught you can tell us which might aid us in this quest?"

"Come closer, woman!" It was the queen. Her voice was commanding and she had pushed herself up from the pallet upon which she lay so that she could look at Feia with a piercing blue gaze.

Galion turned in wonder to see Nenuiel awake and alert. "My Queen!" he exclaimed with relief, and then to Meg he said, "I apologize for my doubt, my lady! You are a healer of surpassing skill."

"My Lord I have yet to attempt a healing upon your queen. She is made well by her own strength, I deem." Meg admitted, sitting back on her heels. But Meg had been watching, and the queen's eyes had snapped open at the sound of Feia's voice.

Feia moved without hesitation to obey Nenuiel's command, and she knelt opposite Meg at the queen's side. Legolas's mother reached out and clasped Feia's hand firmly. It did not appear to Meg that the gesture was meant as comforting, though neither could it be called threatening.

They remained frozen that way while the queen of the Mirkwood elves studied the woman intently, and then suddenly Feia gasped aloud. Meg watched her sister in puzzlement as Feia's cheeks first went pale, and then bloomed with red. A swift smile began to spread across her sister's face but as quickly slipped away. Then Feia dissolved into helpless tears, throwing her arms around her husband's mother. The elven queen froze, her expression registering consternation, then all at once she returned Feia's embrace, stroking the woman's hair almost tenderly.

In all of their lives, Meg had never seen Feia as emotional as she had been in these past days. There was more than enough cause, and yet it still surprised her. But as much as Meg wanted to blame Legolas and his coarse handling of her sister, she could not help but feel compassion for the suffering elf. No, it was not Legolas's fault. Feia had opened herself fully to love for the first time since Alderaan was destroyed and that could not be wrong, whatever the consequences. Even if the consequences were tears like this - tears that made Meghailin's heart ache in sympathy, for her sister sounded as though she were being emptied of hope.

Gimli, Galion and Suluin were all looking on with varying expressions of startlement. Then Nenuiel set Feia away from her and gave her a slight shake. Feia immediately did what was necessary to master her emotions and by the time the queen had turned to address the others, Meg's sister had the Mask of the First firmly in place.

"Suluin," Nenuiel said in an authoritative tone, "Gather our afflicted brothers and sisters and keep them close. Be alert for elven scouts. Lord Glorfindel will wish to know where we are before he attacks. Keep your weapons hidden near to hand! This is the time when we may be called upon to protect our defenseless people from the orc at any cost. We must not allow them to become hostages!"

The Queen's sharp eyes fixed on her son's dwarven companion, then, and she said, "As for you, Lord Gimli, the spell which my husband cast against Legolas continues in the central tower of the keep. As he incanted the spell, Thranduil lit thirteen candles. When all of the candles have burnt out, my son will be no more." Gimli moved as though to go at once to the keep, but Nenuiel held up her hand to forestall him, "the king has set wards upon the perimeter of the tower and the door glows with a green spectrous light. Do not touch it, nor attempt to break it down whilst the ward remains."

"But how shall I remove this ward, my lady?" Gimli asked, with a grimace of frustration.

"I believe that the power to create the ward came from a golden torque which my husband has habitually worn since he first came to Dol Guldur," Nenuiel explained. "I have replayed the scene over and over in my mind and I am convinced; the torque is an instrument of power and of evil. Thranduil does not remove the ornament night or day, but it may be that I can find a way to see it off of him. If I can destroy it, I do not doubt that it will end the spell under which my people suffer, and it should also open the sealed door to the central tower. That shall be my task."

The Queen stood, smoothing her skirts with a graceful hand as though she had not spent the last days in a state of semi-consciousness, but was only just rising from an afternoon nap. "You must go to the tower and be prepared for when the defenses come down, master dwarf. Lady Meghailin may attempt to revive my people with her skills, if she so chooses. The Lady Serafé will remain here with our few hale elves to guard her."

Meg looked to her sister in anticipation of the protest she was sure would come. Gimli was also peering at Feia expectantly and had his breath held. The woman drew herself up; giving every appearance that she would not disappoint them. Neither of her companions knew what to make of it when instead, Feia only nodded reluctantly and then settled in to wait.

"You must be the one to help him good Gimli, for I may not." Feia said, and her voice held all the anxiety her cool façade disguised.

Gimli bowed to his friend's lady, promising, "If I can find a way to aid him, I will though it cost me my life!" Then the dwarf was away.

The queen was also gone, leaving Galion with Feia and Meg. But immediately, the elven lord bowed himself out of their presence in order to assist with the gathering of his people. When he had gone Meg looked at Feia with wide eyes. "Sister, you confound me!" she exclaimed. "What possible reason could you have for your capitulation with the queen's request?"

Feia smiled slightly at her friend, "I heard no request. Was that not a command?"

"Queen Nenuiel may not command you," Meg disagreed. "You have sworn your oath to the King of Gondor."

"It is not my oath to King Elessar, but my connection to her son which concerns the queen of the Mirkwood elves."

"But however could she know about that?" Meg queried, mystified.

Feia shivered as she recalled her first encounter with her mother-in-law. The intensity of the elven queen's scrutiny had been unsettling. And then Nenuiel's voice had demanded inside her mind; _"Are you aware that even now you carry my son's babes within you?"_ Feia had been completely unprepared for it. Legolas's children! There would be two. She was Alderaani; there were always two. And they were growing inside her right now, gaining strength and life even as their father's slipped away. It was the bitterest possible joy.

Feia did not even realize she was crying again until she had been drawn into her sister's arms. _"Feia, you are frightening me!"_ Meg said into her sister's mind.

"_Extend your healing sense, Meggie, and you will understand."_ Feia took Meg's wrist and laid the healer's hand upon her abdomen. Meg blinked at her wonderingly, and then reached out with her healing awareness.

When the tenth gong shook the earth, Meg and Feia were already weeping in one another's embrace.

XXX

With Elessar and Lord Elrond, Legolas crept toward Dol Guldur one painful step at a time. The elf had managed to shake off much of the effects of the eighth gong after a struggle of several minutes. The ninth had taken much longer, and Legolas was unable to continue at all until Elessar slung his friend's arm over his shoulders and put a supporting arm around the elf's waist.

Lord Elrond left them soon after that, slipping into the trees and away; but not before giving his parting instructions, "You must get him there, Elessar, and in time. Do not fail!" And then he was gone.

Elessar stared at the place where the elven patriarch had been and then he took a breath on a sigh. When he glanced at Legolas, the elf's eyes were hollow with exhaustion and his jaw was clenched against pain; but he shifted his weight off of his friend and took a determined step forward. In a stumbling walk they covered the last distance to their destination.

They were amongst the trees surrounding the bare hill atop which stood the monstrous structure where the Enemy had once dwelt, when the tenth gong dropped the elven prince as though his legs had been cut from under him. Elessar attempted every conventional method he knew, but he could not revive the stricken elf, who thrashed and muttered but would not wake.

Legolas recalled that there was something that he must do; something for which he alone was responsible, but he could no longer recall what it was. Elessar was calling to him and he desperately tried to respond to his friend, but the elf's voice would not obey him. Then the dreams came and seized his mind, trapping him in a labyrinth from which he could find no escape.

Legolas's fever was far too high and the king worried. "Naurim! naurim…" the elf murmured restlessly, and Elessar said gently, "I know you burn, my friend."

Seeking the nearest covering brush, Elessar dragged Legolas beneath it and then disguised the tracks that they had left. It was the best that he could do. Lord Elrond had said that he must not fail. And so he had no choice but to enter Legolas's mind and attempt to aid him, though to do so would leave them both vulnerable.

Settling to the ground beside Legolas, Elessar placed a cool hand on the prince's brow. Almost the king could wish for the spell to be complete so that his friend would finally find peace! But there would be no rest or peace for Legolas, only a hideous and painful ending.

Ruthlessly, Elessar thrust the thought aside and centered his thoughts, breathing deeply. Legolas had permitted his human friend to touch his mind before, and Elessar had found it to be a serene and beautifully ordered place. But what had once been smooth protective shields were in ruins, and the king was entirely unprepared for the churning chaos he encountered within. His very presence seemed to cause pain, for Legolas tensed at the intrusion, groaning.

"_Legolas?"_ the king sent, trying to find a way through the confusion. All at once he found himself standing high atop a cliff over-looking the sea with Legolas at his side. The elf was silent, his arms crossed over his chest. The scent of brine filled Elessar's nostrils and he could hear the call of gulls and the crashing of waves far below. He watched his friend, but the elven prince stared out over the water. Finally Legolas said, "Cairn nin ná nórren." _My ship is burning._

Elessar looked out to sea and there he saw an elven craft sailing away west. At first it seemed an illusion created by the sinking sun that the ship was in flames, but then he saw the smudge of smoke rising in a column from the floundering vessel.

When the king looked back at Legolas, the elf lay on the ground and they were somewhere else. The elven prince's wrists and ankles were bound to stakes driven into the earth. He was naked to the waist and covered with the evidence of cruel torture. Darkness had fallen, but Legolas's torment was lit by the flames of a great bonfire. A tree had been ripped up by its roots and packed all around with dry brush set aflame. As Elessar watched in horror, the scene altered so that now his friend was secured to the tree and he was burning. Weakly, the elf raised his head, "Nás Lôren?" _Is it a dream? _ And then Legolas screamed.

The sound of Legolas's agony reverberated through Elessar's mind, nearly driving him from the link; but he held on. When his inner vision cleared, the king was in a strange round room. The bodies of several elves, their throats cut, littered the floor. More elves stood impassively watching as Legolas wrestled desperately with an elf Elessar recognized. It was Fimloth the Metal Smith, a craftsman of Mirkwood.

The two elves battled with intensity. Legolas held a stone blade already slick with blood, and blood covered him, but soon Elessar realized that Fimloth was struggling to plunge the dagger into his own throat, while Legolas fought to keep the weapon away from the elven smith. Finally the prince was pulled off balance and he cried out in grief as his own hands thrust the knife home, killing the other elf. Legolas sobbed helplessly, lifting himself off of his fallen kin, only to have Eithelisse, an elf whom Elessar remembered as a skilled performer of epic poetry, step in and seize his prince's hands.

In no time, this new struggle was over and the dagger was buried in the elven bard's throat. Legolas's face was twisted with horror. He pulled the blade free with another cry and fell, sliding on blood. There was blood everywhere.

Then a beautiful elf maiden came and sat beside him, heedless of the gore. She brushed the elven prince's cheek with long graceful fingers.

"Nimírië," Legolas said, tears sliding down his face. "I did not mean to kill them."

Slowly the lovely elven lady lifted Legolas's hand, which still clutched the dagger, and it seemed that she meant to gently take it from him. But instead, with terrible deliberateness she guided his hand, slitting her own throat.

Legolas pressed his fingers to the fatal wound but the maiden's life pumped between them. "Elessar, aid me!" the elf said urgently, acknowledging his friend's presence there with him for the first time.

"She is dead, my friend," Elessar responded. "You cannot save her! But neither did you kill her. You did not kill any of them."

They stood in the wedding grove at Rivendell. Legolas waited beneath the swaying garlands where he had witnessed Haldir and Meg's vows, while Elessar watched from the edge of the clearing. It was twilight and it seemed that they were alone, but then through the trees Feia came walking. She wore her exotic white gown with the moonstones, one swaying over her navel on its chain. Unlike the day of the wedding, however, her hair hung loose saving her queues connate and her feet were unshod. She was smiling and she continued across the leaf littered floor of the clearing until she stood facing Legolas.

"Nalyë ore nin, Feia," the elf said. _You are my heart. _

"Im ná leië oialë, Legolas," Feia responded. _I am yours forever. _

Legolas kissed her then, enfolding her in his arms. But suddenly Feia sagged against her concinnate. At first, in confusion, Legolas gripped his wife's arms and tried to help her to stand, but finally he was forced to lower her to the ground. Protruding from the lady's chest was the stone dagger. Blood made a ghastly contrast to Feia's white gown and her eyes were wide open and staring.

Elessar winced as Legolas keened in grief so profound that it nearly rent the elf's failing mind asunder and the king's with it. Elessar was plunged into chaos once more.

There was no way to get his bearings in the maelstrom of Legolas's fevered dreams, and Elessar began to fear he was as lost as his tormented friend. He called with his mind, over and over, _"Legolas…Legolas!"_ But visions and sensations flashed past him too quickly to grasp. Then, as if from afar, he heard the maddened ranting of Thranduil.

He stood in the shadows at the edge of another clearing. It was night, and orc were all around, but they did not heed him. Legolas hung from his bound hands as the prince's father beat him viciously.

Elessar's friend was limp against the tree to which he had been tied, and was hardly responding to the cruel cuts of the leather thong that the elven king flailed without mercy. Equally pitiless were the words that flowed like venom from Thranduil's mouth, "Nalyë ben-adar!" _You are fatherless!_ "Nainú uindole!" _I lament that you were ever born! _

Legolas whispered a denial from Elessar's side "Naiú elyë, Ada. Naiú elyë!" _It is not you, Father. It is not you!_

They stood together and watched as the beating and the ranting went on and on. The elf observed his memory without further outward sign. Then Queen Nenuiel came walking through the firelit clearing to the trees, and stood before her son. "You alone can end this, Legolas. You alone…" And she handed him a knife set with three large gems.

Legolas sank to his knees as if the weapon were a burden of incalculable weight. They were high on the cliff again, overlooking the sea, and the sun's disc had sunk half beneath the horizon. Of the elven ship there was no sign.

The elf's shoulders shook with silent sobs. He held the evil knife across his open palms as if unsure what to do with it. And then he moaned, "Uva hen amarth úváni onin?" _Will this fate not pass from me? _

With a harsh sob, Legolas turned the knife's point to lie against his own heart. Elessar gasped and knelt at his friend's side, urging, "Na veronwë, mellon nin!" _Be steadfast, my friend_!

"Estel ná firith," _Hope is faded,_ Legolas whispered. "Ûrnya ná peleth!" _My spirit is broken!_

"Estel nanen cuioren! Mí maië Eru ná ûr leië ortane." Elessar said. _Hope is in living! In the hand of God is your spirit lifted up._

Legolas allowed the jeweled knife to tumble from his fingers, and he buried his face in his hands. "Im daedelos e Alya úhiruva nin," he said. _I fear the Holy One will not find me. _But when Elessar sought to beseech him again, Legolas forestalled him saying, "Útar nainië nanin, Elessar! Maruvan." _Do not despair of me, Elessar! I will abide._

Tentatively, Elessar held a hand out toward his friend. With only the slightest hesitation, Legolas reached out and gripped it, and together they opened their eyes beneath the sheltering brush within sight of Dol Guldur. Legolas was drenched with sweat. The fever had broken.

Chapter 29:

**Appointments to Keep **

Thranduil was restive. As the spell that he had cast came close to its conclusion, he felt the weight of the deed upon his heart. He could not regret doing what he must to save the elves but, he reasoned, a father could mourn his son; even a son who had betrayed his people.

Thoughts of his son lead to thoughts of Nenuiel. How long had it been since his queen had stood beside him? Time seemed to have little meaning anymore, but surely it had been long. Where was his wife? Stirring himself from his melancholy ruminations, Thranduil decided that he would seek her out. It would be comforting to grieve for Legolas together with his lady.

His people had something of a camp within the trees. He had not been there, but he knew of it; and so when he did not see Nenuiel amongst the elves who wandered in the clearing before the fortress, Thranduil set his feet in the direction of the camp.

XXX

Had she waited too long, lost in despair?

Nenuiel forced herself to move slowly and with apparent aimlessness as she emerged from the trees to cross the open space between their shelter and the hulking menace of the fortress. Absently she noted that Suluin and the others were quickly and discreetly gathering her people in as she had instructed. Perhaps there was hope for them after all. Perhaps there had been hope all along, but she had failed to see it.

If they had acted immediately when she had reasoned that the torque might be the key, perhaps there would even have been hope for Legolas. But now! Now they were nearly out of time. Time she had wasted in grief.

The woman had been a revelation. When the strange lady had begun speaking, Nenuiel had felt her attention – which had been locked in a state of sorrow, suddenly captured. Serafé Organa Naberrie the woman had named herself; a strange name. And then she had spoken Legolas's name, and her heart had been there in it.

Nenuiel had needed to physically touch her. The queen could hardly trust her own mind in these mad days, and she had needed to verify what her ears had perceived. Nothing could have prepared her for what her questing mind had found at that touch. Somehow between the last Nenuiel had seen her son and now, Legolas had wed. He had wed a human who was also immortal and he had fathered twin babes. And there was no doubt that this Lady Serafé loved him. The woman's heart had been laid bare to Nenuiel; there was no guile in her.

And she was strong. Yes, the lady had broken down when Nenuiel revealed to her that she carried Legolas's children. If she had not, she would be cold indeed, with her husband so close to death. But she had mastered herself quickly. Lady Serafé had obviously come to Dol Guldur, subjecting herself to danger on Legolas's behalf. And so, she was also brave. And yet she had reluctantly submitted to Nenuiel's command to remain at the camp. She had agreed for the sake of the babies, and that was prudent – and loving.

Nenuiel decided she had no choice but to like this strange woman who was her daughter-in-law.

The queen's features remained mild and impassive, despite her tumultuous thoughts. She saw no orc watching and sensed no eyes upon her, but she would take no chances. If she appeared anything other than one more elf afflicted by the spell, she could jeopardize her mission.

It came as a complete shock, then, when a strong hand gripped her upper arm like a vice and a voice hissed in her ear, "Come with me quickly, Nenuiel."

The queen did not speak, but allowed herself to be lead back into the forest. Only when they were a cautious distance beneath its sheltering boughs and she was assured that no orc hid nearby did Nenuiel speak, but she kept her voice low, "What are you doing here, Lord Elrond? I was told that Lord Glorfindel leads the elves who will assault the orc."

"He does, Lady," Elrond agreed. "I came for you. You and I must not intervene in what will happen in the next minutes. Our interference could shift the balance, which is delicate indeed. There will be work enough for us to do when it is over."

"You have had a Foreseeing? Elrond…my son…?"

Elrond shook his head regretfully, "The Foreseeing was not clear to me. Whether Legolas will survive this day, I cannot say. For the moment, he perseveres to do his duty; functioning on will alone. Though when last I saw him he had little enough of that left."

"And what of Thranduil?"

"We must wait and see, Nenuiel. Wait here with me and we shall see."

XXX

Haldir rode at Glorfindel's side with Elladan as they listened to the report of the scouts returning from Dol Guldur. He had work to do, a duty to his people as second in command of the elven force that was soon to assault the Hill of Black Magic, and by The Lady, he would grit his teeth and do it.

Rúmil had discovered a sentry who had noted the departure of the ladies just at dawn and Haldir had found a scout who had seen them together with Gimli heading into the trees of the southern Mirkwood. There was no way Haldir could have caught them up. Their fate was in the hands of the Valar.

But he did not have to like it.

"There are some few Mirkwood elves yet unaffected by the evil spell, my lords," the scout reported, "perhaps a dozen; probably less. They have had some warning of what is to occur, for even now they gather the afflicted elves together. There is a camp within the trees where they take shelter at night. It is due north of the fortress, not quite half a league into the forest. That is where they will be."

"Thank you, Lorthron," Glorfindel responded evenly. "Let us send your brother with fifty elves to keep our Mirkwood kin from harm, Haldir. If they circle round and travel in twos and threes, we may yet keep secret that we mount a major assault."

"I shall instruct him, my lord," Haldir agreed.

XXX

Suluin and a handful of other elves began to guide their brethren into the camp where Feia and Meg waited. When Galion ushered a shuffling elf into the clearing, Meg asked him, "My lord, what is the name of this elf? I would attempt to heal him, if I may."

"His name is Brewain, lady," Galion responded. "He is a master weaver." The elven lord regarded the vacant expression on the artisan's face before saying with both hope and doubt, "I wish you success." Then Galion bowed and glided again into the trees.

Brewain only looked blankly at Meg when she spoke his name; nonetheless, she introduced both herself and Feia and requested permission to perform a healing upon him. He made no response whatsoever, nor did he respond when she laid her hands upon his head. In moments, Meg was deep in healing trance.

Feia was stretched tight as a bowstring with tension. It was maddening to be here and yet unable to do aught for Legolas. But knowing now that every risk she took upon herself endangered their children; Feia's ability to aid her husband was effectively thwarted. She could not even assist Meg in her healing efforts!

Unable to be still any longer, Feia stood and walked the perimeter of the camp. It was unnerving to see elves in this state. Elves do not get sick, yet these elves were seriously ill. Legolas was ill…and dying. Feia wrapped her arms around herself in an unconscious attempt to find comfort, but there was none. She needed a miracle – several miracles; and so she occupied her mind in prayer that the Light would be with her husband and with their friends.

And so it was that she had no warning when an arm encircled her waist roughly and a blade was pressed to her throat. A voice grated, "Edainriel nae Fennas!" _Lady of the Gates!_

_Thranduil!_

XXX

Thranduil was determined to find his wife, but she did not appear to be in the camp. He had nearly circled the perimeter when his eyes fell upon a stranger – a woman deep in her own thoughts at the edge of the camp. One look at her face was enough to drive the idea of finding Nenuiel from his mind.

Thranduil knew that face! It was the face of his vision – the face of the bane of elves. Pulling a dagger from his belt, the king of the Mirkwood stalked closer. He would kill her, here and now, and her threat to his people would end.

Or would it? What damage had she inflicted already? She was tied to his son. Had she come here with Legolas, then? If his son were here, he would be seeking a way to stop the spell that would end his existence. Then together, he and this woman would sentence his people to a slow fading death – an inglorious end for an old and honorable race.

Thranduil made a quick decision. The lady would come with him to the fortress and she would be a shield – a hostage to keep Legolas at bay until the spell had finished its work. Not much longer, now! And then Thranduil would kill her and there would be an end to the evil fate his Foreseeing had presaged.

XXX

The elven king's grip on his orc army must be a fairly loose one, Elessar noted. Oh, they had seen orc. They had killed a few, hiding the bodies as they could; and they had seen signs of many more. But there was little to indicate that any formal sort of watch was being kept. Orc were lazy by nature and hated the daylight. Could it be that _all _the orc were hiding from the sun's face?

It made Elessar nervous. Thranduil had battle experience. He must be mad beyond reason to harbor two thousand orc without enforcing discipline.

Legolas crouched beside him as they studied the broad open clearing that stood between them and the fortress. There were smoldering fire-pits and orc refuse scattered all over the open space, with a few rough sheds and rickety lean-tos. An elf and a ranger could easily disappear in that! Or the elf could if he were not trembling with fatigue, shock, and pain.

"If there are orc out there, they are few," Elessar whispered to Legolas, who nodded.

"Orc or no, time is my worst enemy," Legolas answered, "We must chance it, and without delay."

Elessar stood and offered a hand up to Legolas. It was a measure of how far gone the elf was, that he took the hand without hesitation and leaned upon Elessar's strength heavily in order to rise.

Together they slipped through the nearly deserted orc camp. There were some few orc, snoring in their blankets or hiding inside the sheds and speaking in rough voices. Were there not so many elves living near, Elessar and Legolas might have been given away by their scents, but as it was the orc seemed to be going out of their way not to notice anything that would require effort on their part.

In no time they sheltered in the lee of the long flight of stone steps that ascended to the main gate of the fortress. Even here, where sentries might be expected; there were none. Though their passage across the fields had been fairly easy, Legolas was winded. He squatted, gasping and spent.

"I am going to investigate," Elessar murmured. "Surely there must be guards! Wait here, Legolas."

The elf only nodded, almost vaguely, and leaned back against the cool stone.

XXX

Gimli reached down and cleaned his axe on the rough fabric of the garment the orc sentry was wearing. It had not been particularly alert, this one, and its neck had been half-severed before it realized that it could probably have been doing a better job.

The dwarf dragged the dead guard into the shadows at the inside of the heavy gate that opened into the fortress, and then he slipped silently toward the central tower.

His chief concern had been accidentally bumping into Thranduil. An elf, even a maddened elf, (perhaps especially a maddened elf) would be a bit more of a hindrance than a lazy orc! But Gimli reached the door to the tower without incident, and there he saw the sickly green light he had been warned of.

All he could do now was wait, and hope. Hoping became more of a challenge as, just then, the eleventh gong sounded.


	6. Summerland Chapters 30 to 36

**Naeore Laerien** (Summerland of the Heart)

Chapter 30:

**Flight of an Arrow **

Legolas came to himself slowly, his face in the dirt and his back still pressed to the stone of the stairway. Hot pain stabbed at him, like tiny knives cutting, cutting, cutting the fine threads that still held his soul in his body.

Eleven…he was not going to make it. How could he confront his father when he could barely raise his head from the ground?

Deliberately, the elf placed his hands flat on the earth at either side of his head. Then he forced his arms straight, lifting. His vision swam and he fought the urge to empty his stomach. His arms trembled as though boneless.

Then he heard a voice upon the stairs above him. The mutterings of madness, but a voice that was dear. _My father!_

"Nai nallon an sén nin, edhelothnya oialë egleriouva hen aur!" _It may be that I grieve for my son, but my people will forever glorify this day! _

"Ada!" Legolas gasped out almost silently.

_He is my father!_ The onslaught came painfully - as painful as anything that could be done by torture or spell. Memory images assaulted him of clear blue eyes, bright with affection and with pride. _He has always loved me._

Legolas choked back a sob. There was no time left - It must be now. For his people, for their freedom, he would do this thing – and then there would be an end.

"Nin mettai túlna vedui!" he whispered. _Let there be an end!_

Gripping his bow, Legolas scrambled out away from the stairs. The elven prince settled on his knees and took aim, though his vision remained clouded and dim.

Thranduil was hunched forward oddly, moving up the stairs in an almost jerking stride and he held his long cloak around him so that he seemed somehow misshapen.

Summoning every last shred of his strength, focusing every ounce of will, Legolas's cried out, "Ada!!!" _Father!!!_ And it was as if all the grief and unspeakable duty were being ripped from his throat.

As Thranduil began to turn, Legolas let fly an arrow to speed toward his father's heart.

There was no way to recall it when Legolas perceived the triumphant smile that spread across Thranduil's face.

There was no way to stop it when Legolas saw his wife, one of his father's hands tight across her mouth, the other fisted in her hair, holding her upright before him.

There was no way to take it back, after it had passed into her flesh.

As the twelfth gong echoed against the walls of the keep, the searing agony of his soul being torn free seemed to flow naturally from the crippling grief of killing his lady.

Legolas screamed.

Chapter 31:

**Faded Hope **

Rubbing her temples briskly against the ache that had positioned itself behind her eyes, Meghailin was forced to concede that healing would do nothing for the elves afflicted by this baffling sickness.

She had approached the problem from every angle, but this elf, Brewain, was healthy! Each time she believed she had – something she interpreted as a lock upon his mind; a lock with no key that she was capable of devising with her skills.

Sighing in defeat, Meg turned to report her failure to Serafé, and found her gone. At first, this fact did not overly concern the elf, for she knew how interminably long she had been in healing trance. The headache alone was proof of that. Feia was anxious – restless, she could not be expected to sit quiet and wait. But her friend would be in the elves' camp somewhere; of this Meg was certain.

And Meg remained certain until she had traveled the camp from end to end and found no sign of Feia anywhere. Where could she have gone? _Why_ would she have gone? Meg was badly shaken, and the eleventh gong throbbing in the earth beneath her feet did nothing to calm her. She was just about to set off, on a hunch, for the fortress when Rúmil with several other Lórien elves strode into the clearing as if materializing from the air.

"Ah!" said her brother-in-law, "There you are, my lady." He sounded just as calm as if he had come upon her sipping tea in a garden.

"Lord Rúmil!" Meg exclaimed, "My sister is missing!"

The elf quirked a brow at her, "Not to put too fine a point on it, lady, but your sister excels at being elsewhere than expected. Are you sure she is not missing of her own accord?"

"There are limits to what Feia will and will not do," Meg spoke with absolute authority. "Leaving the camp at this time is beyond those limits."

Rúmil nodded, signaling to one of his company. The elf jogged over and Meg's brother-in-law said, "The Lady Serafé is missing from this camp, spread word amongst the elves to look for anything out of the ordinary which might indicate where she has gone."

"Yes, my lord," the elf acknowledged and moved away.

The Lórien elf returned his attention to Meg. "You appear greatly disturbed by the lady's disappearance, sister," he said. "Were you to multiply your anxiety thrice, you might come close to how my brother felt when he found you gone this morning."

Meg winced, "I assure you; it was not my intent to cause my husband any additional anxiety. But I have my conscience to answer to, Rúmil. Haldir will find our life together trying if he intends to keep me under his thumb when my duty lies elsewhere."

She shook her head and sighed, admitting, "That was not entirely fair."

"No," Rúmil agreed with a small smile, "and yet I do take your meaning." Then his smile broadened into a grin, "The years ahead should prove enlightening for my brother."

The elf that Rúmil had instructed to seek signs of Meg's sister returned then with Suluin. "My lord, my lady," Suluin said, "A sentry discovered these amongst the trees. They lay as though removed in haste and dropped."

A cold fear slithered down Meg's spine as she identified Feia's knife and her sword, her bow and her quiver. "Feia would not willingly go from here unarmed, nor would she treat her gear in this manner. My sister was taken against her will!"

"It was the king," Brewain said, and everyone turned in surprise. The weaver still sat where Meg had left him, but his eyes were shining and aware.

"I saw him take her, but I could do nothing."

XXX

It took a moment for Gimli to react when the spectrous light faded from the tower door. But as soon as he was able to credit his own eyes, the dwarf swiftly entered the heart of Dol Guldur.

Even as he did, the twelfth gong clanged ominously and the earth heaved. From not very far off he heard the scream of an exceptionally strong elf at the limit of his endurance. It was a mortal scream.

"Legolas!" he cried, and almost bolted back out of the tower in the direction of that terrible cry. But, no! If he were to find a way to help the lad, he would find it here.

Within the round room Gimli found the chalked pattern and the blood symbols, and the remains of thirteen candles. One lone flame guttered, nearly drowned in a pool of wax. It would be only moments more! What could he do? What?

Gimli was at a loss. To himself, the dwarf muttered, "I am no wizard and I am no elf! What would Gandalf do? What would The _Lady _do? That is what I must determine." At thought of The Lady, the dwarf held his hand over the place where he kept her gift. Then with a cry of triumph, he removed the brooch from inside his tunic and laid it upon the stone table.

"I need your light, Lady! The lad needs your light! _Please!"_ he entreated. Nothing at all occurred and Gimli began to despair, but then the brooch flared blindingly bright so that the dwarf was forced to cover his eyes.

When he chanced to peer between his fingers again, it was to see the gentle smile of Galadriel as she reached to touch his face with a hand formed of light. But then the thirteenth candle faltered and died and a last booming gong dropped the dwarf (who was already halfway to his knees before The Lady) onto the stone floor.

"No! It cannot be too late!" He cried.

The light of her coming had eradicated much of the darkness of the spell, but the Lady frowned as she sensed the powerful evidence of evil magic. Then she said, "Perhaps not yet, gentle Gimli! Come!" With that she strode from the tower.

XXX

There was no battle, exactly. From the instant the force of elves had slipped into the trees of Southern Mirkwood undetected, the orc were essentially defeated. Some orc who were brighter than most thought to use the ensorcelled Mirkwood elves as shields against the attack, but according to reports Haldir received from scouts, Rúmil's elves had managed them adroitly.

Haldir had thirty elves with him, but he could only see six of them at the moment. They had fanned out and come upon the orc where they lazed away the day in small bands throughout the wood around Dol Guldur.

The orc were defeated, but it would be long before the elves and their neighbors could be completely free of the threat of them; too many of the creatures had scattered and fled, and the Southern Mirkwood was far too accommodating for their kind. The elves were ranging out to catch stragglers, but not too far. Lord Glorfindel had been adamant that the objectives remain three: free the Mirkwood elves, retake Dol Guldur, and break up the organization of the orc.

Haldir had seen little to indicate organization. The orc were bound by fear of Thranduil, perhaps – but only loosely so.

His elves emerged from the wood into the clearing at the base of the Hill of Black Magic and Haldir counted as they broke cover. Thirty. _No casualties, praise Elbereth!_

Just at that moment the eleventh gong shook them. _One casualty,_ Haldir amended. _One – unless there is a miracle, and soon._

XXX

Elessar bent to inspect the dead orc. It was still warm. The creature had been killed with a blade, and unless he was completely mistaken, it had been the blade of an axe.

Some orc were known to use axes, and lethal fights were not uncommon between them with little provocation, but why had the axe-wielder dragged the carcass of his foe away into the shadows? Why hide it?

The rattle and scrape of more than one shambling orc gait came from inside the fortress heading his way and Elessar faded into a dark corner. When three orc rounded the bend, he dispatched them readily enough, dragging them to join their fellow.

If there were many more orc in the fortress, they were keeping very quiet, which indicated that there were not. Perhaps Thranduil was averse to sharing his new home with the creatures.

He should be returning to his waiting companion, Elessar thought as he cleaned his blade. He had left the elf alone and vulnerable too long! But then the eleventh gong shuddered through the keep.

"Legolas!" he breathed and began to run.

When the former ranger neared the gate he heard the cry, "Ada!!!" It was Legolas, but his voice was dreadful to hear.

As Elessar broke through into daylight, he saw someone fall, cloak flaring about them, backward off the stairs to his right. But then the twelfth gong brought a shattering scream from Legolas and the king of Gondor leapt from the stairs to the left, falling to his knees at his friend's side.

"_Legolas!"_

A cool silver glow surrounded the elf, who was tense and gasping. Desperately Legolas's eyes sought Elessar's face, but he did not appear capable of sight. Between harsh breaths, through clenched teeth Legolas forced out the words, "Nás sí napant…! Ilye nánan mornië…" _It is nearly finished…! All is darkness…_

Then the elf whispered, "Úvanimelda onin, Elessar!" _Do not leave me! _

"Náim sí, Legolas." _I am here._ Elessar struggled against the debilitating grief, seeking frantically for a way to aid his friend. But as the thirteenth gong heralded the end, the king knew there was naught that he could do to either stem his sorrow or prevent what was about to occur.

Legolas only gave a low moan. The sickly green mist was back, but this time it crackled with energy like lightning, that struck at the silver light surrounding the elf unrelentingly. The elven prince's body jerked spasmodically with each blow, and soon the silver aura was rent in many places. Wherever the light was weakened, there the mist flowed in to overwhelm it.

_This is what the destruction of a soul looks like,_ Elessar thought, horrified. Throwing back his head the king cried out, "Yasse lentar túlnas hen!?" _How has it come to this!?_

Chapter 32:

**Lady of Light **

In the midst of his despair, an unanticipated stillness crept upon the king of Gondor, settling over him like a mantle. In wonder, Elessar looked up and beheld a vision of golden light in the form of Lady Galadriel, who smoothly knelt beside the failing prince of Eryn Lasgalen.

She held her hands outstretched and the violent rending of Legolas's soul ceased. With a wave, The Lady dismissed the evil mist that retreated from her, snapping and flashing as if it were a ravening beast denied its prey. Then with a percussive boom, the malevolent thing recoiled upon itself and was gone.

Tenderly, Galadriel gathered the tatters of silver light together until it was radiant and whole. Then She turned her pale hands palms downward and the silver light condensed, smaller and tighter; brighter and brighter, until it disappeared beneath her fingers where they rested over Legolas's heart.

"Cuio!" she commanded. _Live!_

The Lady bent then, and laid a kiss lightly to Legolas's bloodless lips. "Cuio," she breathed over his mouth and he responded with a breath of his own.

A fleeting smile touched her lips, which she then pressed to the elf's pale brow. "Cuio, Legolas!" she bade him.

The elven prince's eyes fluttered open and Elessar heard Gimli utter a wordless sound of relief. In that moment the king became fully aware of the dwarf's presence beside him. The usually gruff face of his friend was aglow with rapt adoration for The Lady and tears stood in his eyes.

Legolas lay for some time looking around him with shining eyes as though he did not recognize where he was or yet recall all that had transpired. When he moved to rise, Elessar hastened to lend his aid until the elf was sitting up and proved capable of staying that way. But when his gaze fell upon The Lady, Legolas's face twisted with sorrow.

"I have failed, Lady," he whispered, and then with a muffled sob he added, "I have killed her!"

Galadriel laughed gently. It was the sound of a freshet of water – a spring. It was the sound of rebirth and healing. "You do not yet know what task you are to perform, how then are you so sure that you have failed?" The Lady laughed again and Elessar and Gimli felt their hearts lighten.

But Legolas persisted, voice deep and roughened with despair, "I have killed my lady! I have shot her with an arrow!"

The Lady of Light cupped Legolas chin with her fair and luminous hand, "Did you aim for her?" she asked with a smile.

"Nay, Lady," he responded.

"Then perhaps you should go to her for she may have need of you!" Galadriel stood and gestured for Elessar and Gimli to aid Legolas in standing.

When the elf was on his feet, for a moment he gazed at the Lady in dazed silence, and then he lurched into a stumbling run with Lady Galadriel's chiming laughter speeding him away.

XXX

Nenuiel stood with her hands loose at her sides, too grieved and too frightened to weep. They stood not so far away from the keep that she could have missed the sound of her son's final agony. Thirteen. There had been thirteen.

It was over.

Placing a hand on the queen's elbow, Lord Elrond spoke gently to her, "Now is the time, Nenuiel. Let us go forth and see what we may see."

The queen of the Mirkwood elves returned the calm gaze of the patriarch of her people and stood a little taller. "I am ready," she said.

XXX

Elessar bowed with profound and wordless gratitude to Lady Galadriel and then he followed Legolas. As he turned away, he saw Gimli give a start from his rapt contemplation of The Lady and with a bow of his own, the dwarf trailed after.

By the time Elessar and Gimli had rounded the stairs, Legolas already knelt at Feia's side. The king saw that his liege lady lay pinned at the shoulder by an elven arrow to the chest of King Thranduil. Angled upwards the arrow pierced her through, and was stuck in the center of the golden torque Legolas's father wore. Both the woodland king and the woman were quite still.

But Legolas had eyes only for his lady. Anxiously, he ran his hands over his wife's face…her arms. She breathed. Her heart beat steady and true.

"Feia!" he tried to call to her, but his voice was rendered nearly inaudible by the relief that swelled his chest. Even so, her eyelashes fluttered and finally opened. A tremulous smile appeared and she raised her right hand to touch his cheek.

"Legolas!" she gasped, "Pedo nin náim úlôrren!" _Say it is not a dream! _

Legolas could not force words past his lips, so instead he dipped his head and brushed her mouth light and swift with his kiss, then gripping the arrow firmly in both of his hands; he broke the fletching free with one quick snap.

Feia huffed out a breath at the fleeting pain, but made no other sound. Legolas leaned in very close to her and gently arranged her left arm so that it was held still between them. He looped her right arm over his neck and whispered, "Narist anna nin, Orenya." _Hold on to me, my heart. _

And she did. Feia tucked her face against Legolas's neck and held on. In a single smooth motion, he lifted her up and off of the arrow's shaft.

She only made the tiniest whimper when the arrow came free, clinging to him with absolute trust. Legolas had intended to ease her to the ground, but instead he continued to draw her to him until she was sitting up in his arms. He placed a hand over the wound and held his lady against his chest, rocking gently. Only then did he realize that he was continuing to murmur to her, "Narist anna nin! Narist anna nin, Orenya," over and over.

Legolas's eyes were wet and he was not sure anymore what he was asking of her; though he was certain it had nothing whatever to do with removing the arrow from her shoulder. But his lady was also weeping and she said, "Nán…Imtar, Imuva, Edhel nin!" _I am…I do, I will, my elf! _

It was then that Legolas perceived that they were being observed. Nenuiel was frozen where she stood, hands pressed to her mouth. She split her silent gaze between her motionless husband, whose steady breaths were the only sign he yet lived, and her son who was miraculously alive.

"_Hen úná e mattarë onin, Naneth,"_ Legolas sent. _I do not end this day._

"_Then there is much yet to live for,"_ Nenuiel replied, and her elation sang in his mind. But he felt the undercurrents of trepidation and a confusing knot of other emotions as his mother knelt beside her lord.

Elessar hung back unwilling to disturb the scene which played out before him, but when Haldir appeared at a run, he said, "You are early, friend Haldir. Where is your lady wife?"

Haldir had been gazing at Legolas with an expression of wonder, but when Elessar spoke he looked to the king, and began, "I do not know…" but then his eyes grew wide as they slid past the man and beyond, whereby he fell to his knees. "Lady!"

The apparition of Galadriel glided to stand before Haldir and tipped up his chin with her shimmering hand. "Dear Haldir!" she said, and she was smiling when she reached down and kissed the elf on his cheek. Then she stood and said, "And here is your lady with her healing hands in the company of your charming brother." The golden Lady spread her hands in welcome.

Meg curtsied deeply to The Lady, stunned; but when she rose and her sister with Legolas she made a small sound of dismay and hastened to Feia's side.

When Meg realized that Legolas was incapable of letting go of his wife, the healer sighed, "Oh, very well!" and allowed her healing energy to flow through both of them simultaneously. In a moment the wound in Feia's shoulder was gone and the lady was asleep in her husband's arms.

Legolas let out a breath he must have been holding and pressed his lips to his lady's hair. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut. But in a moment the elf began to sag. Soon he was forced, with the healer's aid, to lower himself to lie upon the ground with Feia pillowed against his shoulder. "My lady, what did you do?" he accused, staring up at Meg.

"You will sleep, Prince Legolas. You will sleep until you are fully recovered, and I shall have an end to the healing of you!" Meg said sternly, though she smiled and added, "You will be pleased to know that you are no longer leaking."

"Leaking…?" Legolas queried. But his eyes slid closed in deep sleep, and the last sound that he heard was the buoyant laughter of The Lady of Light.

Chapter 33:

**The Hill of Golden Light **

With a wink, Gimli handed Meg a steaming bowl of the thick stew which he had prepared and then he sat down on a handy rock between the son's of Elrond in order to eat his own. The dwarf had been in exceptionally good humor since yesterday afternoon and Meg grinned at him winsomely as she thanked him.

The chief reason for Gimli's happy mood sat across the fire between his wife and King Elessar, and was already enjoying his stew. Legolas had slept almost twenty-four hours, and though it would take some days of rest yet before he was fully recovered from his ordeal, he looked better than Meg had seen him in many days. There was behind his eyes, however a fathomless and haunted pain that no amount of the healing she could provide would erase. Time would have to be the healer of that injury.

Time and tenderness, Meg amended as Feia laid her hand upon her husband's arm. Legolas paused in eating to gaze at her. Gently the elf reached out and tucked his lady's hair back, allowing his fingers to dwell upon the smooth roundness of her ear, a tiny smile curving his lips.

They had been like that since they had awakened from healing slumber. Neither the Mirkwood prince nor the Alderaani princess was able to allow much time to go by without touching, as though they each still required reassurance in order to believe that the other was there and alive.

Haldir came to the fire, then, helping himself to a share of the stew and joining Meg on the fallen log she had claimed as a seat. "Most of the parties who followed to harry the yrch have returned," he reported. "Scouts have seen little sign that any of the creatures were quite fool enough to remain in the vicinity. Suluin will lead a company to Eryn Lasgalen tomorrow in order to ensure a safe return for your people, Legolas."

"That is well," Legolas responded. The elven prince did not ask the questions that were on nearly everyone else's tongues. What of the woodland king? Would Thranduil survive? Would he be recovered from his madness and return to rule the Mirkwood elves? Did they want him to?

He did not ask the questions, but his eyes were drawn to the small pavilion that had been erected at the other side of the clearing. Within, Nenuiel nursed her stricken husband who had yet to waken.

By unspoken agreement, the elves of Rivendell and Lórien had swollen and expanded the camp of their woodland kin rather than remain in sight of what had formerly been the fortress of Dol Guldur.

Or what little was left of it. At the thought, Meg found that she was still reeling from all that she had witnessed yesterday on the Hill of Black Magic…

As Legolas's slipped into healing slumber, Meg laid a hand on his brow deepening his much needed rest. She had no remorse for forcing sleep upon the elf. Had she waited, Legolas was sure to have found a thousand reasons to put it off, and she could feel how depleted he was. There was nothing that the elven prince needed to do that could not wait.

Meg stood and looked down at her sister and her sister's concinnate locked in one another's arms. "We are back again where we began, it seems," she murmured.

"Not entirely, lady," Haldir said behind her, draping an arm around her shoulders. Meg turned into her husband's embrace.

"Nay, my lord," she agreed. "Not entirely."

Haldir sighed, holding her tightly, "If I ask it of you, Bereth nin, would you promise never again to leap headlong into danger without me?"

"It was not my wish to distress you, beloved," Meg replied, "though I know I did, and I am sorry for it."

"That is no answer!" Haldir accused.

"Would you really want to be wed to someone who is willing to disregard the urgings of her conscience, Haldir?" she asked. "I cannot make a promise such as you ask of me! The time may come when, by those urgings I would be forced to break it and that would grieve me terribly, for I would always keep my promises to you."

"At the moment, that is small comfort!" He said, scowling. When Meg opened her mouth to speak, however, Haldir placed his fingers lightly over her lips. "Nay, hush!" he said, "You are right. It is only my desire to safeguard you that is speaking. I would not have you compromise your word or your conscience, even for the temporary reassurance it might provide me."

Elrond arose from where he crouched with Queen Nenuiel over the fallen king of Eryn Lasgalen. He held something in his hand and he looked long upon it, his expression serious, but then he tucked whatever it was into a pouch at his belt as though it were of no moment.

Striding to the apparition of Lady Galadriel, Lord Elrond bowed to her, hand to heart. "When my Foresight indicated your touch in the resolution of events here, I greatly doubted what I Saw, Lady. How is your presence here being accomplished?"

The Lady laughed, turning to place her pale hand on the top of Gimli's head. "The heart of Gimli son of Gloin made a bridge for me, Lord Elrond." She responded.

"But the veil…"

"Has been thinning, my lord," she interrupted. "Gimli's faith called to me, and my coming has shattered it. The veil between east and west is gone." She laughed once more, a throaty sound of joyous mirth. "I find myself thinking the strangest thoughts – longing for things I thought were beyond me. I should like to hold my great grandson, Elrond. Is that not remarkable?"

She did not wait for an answer, but said, "Come, my lord. Help me to do that which I could wish had been done long since. She held her hand out to the elven lord and he took it. Together they moved to the stairs leading to the fortress gates. When they reached the bottom, however, the Lady turned to those assembled saying, "Námarië, dear ones."

All those that were able sank to their knees as the luminous fanar of The Lady of Light, accompanied by Lord Elrond ascended the stair into the hulking fortress.

When they had disappeared within, each of those present were silent, keeping an awed vigil. It was as though, as the vision of The Lady was removed from their sight, they were each awakened from a blissful half-remembered dream and all that was real seemed both drearier and more blessed for the experience of it.

Several minutes passed and little occurred. Presently some few elves came to report to Haldir and Rúmil including Elrohir who informed them of the happy news that the day had cost no more elven lives. Blankets were found to lay over Legolas and Feia and also King Thranduil, while Meg attempted a healing upon the elven king. Litters were prepared to carry the three to the camp in the woods. No one even suggested the possibility that they might remain where they were.

As the group moved away from the fortress, however, a resonant sound like the ringing of a clear bell made them all stop and turn as one toward Dol Guldur.

And so they witnessed its end, as first from the upper windows of the central tower, and then from every window – indeed every crack, bright golden-white light burst forth. Brighter and broader the light grew until those looking on were obliged to shield their eyes. And then with a thunderous, crashing roll, the structure fell in upon itself. Then the light was gone.

Dust hung heavily in the air like thick mist. Shortly, as the company watched too stunned to move, through the obscuring cloud Elrond came striding; his cloak billowed behind him and his armor glittering eerily in the mist altered light. Silently the elven lord approached the dwarf, Gimli, and handed to him the brooch containing his Lady's gift.

Gimli's face was so filled with wonder that the grim and serious face of Elrond Halfelven split into a smile. "The Hill of Black Magic must have a new name, master dwarf," he said. "I propose Dol Calenlor, Hill of Golden Light. What say you?"

"I say it is an altogether fitting name, my lord," the dwarf had responded with a bow and a grin, carefully pinning his brooch back inside his tunic.

The dwarf's hands were occupied with his stew for the moment, but Meg had seen him rubbing at the place where the gift of Galadriel was pinned beneath his tunic and his expression was a study in bemusement.

Feia was staring at Legolas, again as though she were afraid to take her eyes off of him for a moment. "Feia," Meg said gently, "I have told you! You must eat."

Feia had awakened earlier in the day, still tucked against her husband's side. His color had been good and the dark smudges were gone from beneath his eyes. His face was serene in sleep, his chest rising and falling with deep easy breaths. At the sight of him thus, Feia had wept.

"I should have been able to guess that you were with child, sister," Meg had said from where she sat, keeping watch over her charges. "You have only one response these days, and it is decidedly damp."

"He lives!" was Feia's reply, "Crying is only my first response. Later I will sing for you. Later I will fly for you if you like!"

"That will not be necessary! I take your meaning – you are happy." Meg had understated and handed Feia a bowl of hot meal with honey and a cup filled with mint tea. "Eat, Serafé, you and the children should not skip meals."

Feia had given a start, "Meggie, are they alright?"

"They are well!" Meg was reassuring, "though I do not recommend that you take any more arrows until you have been delivered of them! I suppose I need not tell Legolas that he mustn't shoot you anymore, for he appeared most distraught over it."

At Meg's reminder to eat, Feia blinked and looked sheepish, digging into Gimli's stew with renewed vigor. The sight of Legolas alive might be enough for her, but she would not starve her babies.

"Everyone is talking around it, but nobody is really saying anything." Gimli complained. "Will Thranduil live? What is to be done about him?"

Legolas did not so much as twitch, but Meg happened to be watching him closely and so she saw the tightness appear around his eyes.

"King Thranduil remains unconscious, though there is no physical reason for it that I can tell," Meg responded to the dwarf. "He had a head injury from the fall off of the stair, but I healed that. He also had some bruising on his chest and a cracked rib, but I took care of those, too. Queen Nenuiel believes that Legolas's arrow piercing the torque is what ended the spell afflicting the Mirkwood elves and also dropped the ward from the central tower so that you could enter there, my lord. The arrow did not kill Thranduil, since it was impeded by the torque, and by Serafé, of course. Had my sister not been in its way, the arrow would have passed through the torque and killed him."

Legolas had set down his bowl and was scrubbing his hands over his face. Meg knew she had been blunt in her delivery, but from her experience of him, she knew that the elven prince tended to prefer things that way.

Startling everyone, Feia burst out with a laugh. Legolas looked at her as though she had gone quite mad, and that made her laugh again, "I am sorry. I am! It is just that, if what Meg says is true, then I succeeded in my mission after all! I just did not anticipate that it would require getting between the legendary bow of Legolas of the Fellowship and his intended target!"

"Your mission?" Legolas asked; frowning as Gimli began to chuckle, "What are you talking about, my lady?"

It was Gimli who answered, "The lady came to Dol Guldur seeking a way that the spells might be lifted other than the death of your father, Laddie. Apparently your wife thought things would go better for you if you were spared that."

Legolas expression was less elvish than ever as a number of emotions flickered in rapid succession over his features. As she observed the play of emotions on his face, Feia wondered idly if the events of the past weeks would make it impossible for her husband to return to a more elven reserve, or if in time he would again be as subtle as the rest of his kind.

"Lady," he began after a stretched silence, but for some moments that was all that he managed to say. Finally he continued, "Anything might have happened to you by your coming to this place, Orenya! There was no hope for me! Why do you constantly risk yourself for nothing? By blessed Elbereth, I nearly killed you, Feia!"

Somehow in the process of his remonstration, Legolas had seized Feia's shoulder roughly. As he wound down, the elf realized he was probably hurting her and he dropped his hand.

Feia looped her arms around her husband unselfconsciously. "Why do I risk myself for nothing? I could ask why you value your life so cheaply, Edhel nin! I had to hope! Metta nin namí firith o estel!" _I cannot live without hope! _Feia leaned back to look at his eyes. "Im unainië estel nin an te'lme cuio, a nás pant!" _I do not regret my faith for we both live, and it is finished! _

Legolas took both of her hands from behind his neck and brought them together before him. He kissed her fingers, and then held them to his heart. "Nás upant," _it is not finished,_ he said regretfully and glanced once more toward the pavilion where his father rested.

"Which is exactly why I asked the question in the first place, begging your pardon," Gimli put in. "What's to be done about Thranduil? This mess cannot be resolved until we have an answer to that."

"Perhaps we shall have your answer soon, master dwarf, for King Thranduil is awake," Lord Elrond said as he materialized from the darkness to join their fire.

The high elf lord appeared content to leave his news at that indefinitely, and Legolas had been struck mute by the pronouncement, so Elessar asked, "My Lord, what other news have you? Will King Thranduil recover fully? Has command of his mind been restored to him?"

"It is somewhat early to say for certain what we may expect from him," Elrond replied. "His chief concern at the moment seems to be finding out how it came to be autumn when he thought it was spring. From what I can tell, he has no memory of anything that has happened since he first came to Dol Guldur a year and a half ago."

"No memory…" Legolas repeated softly, though he seemed unaware that he had spoken aloud.

"Perhaps that is best," Meg said, "at least for now. From a healing perspective, selective memory can be a valuable aid. Were the king's faculties restored to him, the memory of all that he has done could steal away his will to heal, or even to live."

"I am in agreement, my lady," Elrond said with a slight bow to Meg. "I have discussed it with Nenuiel and we have let it be known that Thranduil is not to be told anything until we discover whether his memory will return naturally."

Just then Galion arrived and addressed Legolas, "Your father has learned that you are in camp, Prince Legolas. He sends for you." The elf kept his face and his voice carefully neutral.

Legolas flowed from a seated position to standing in one motion. He stood still, his features smooth, but he had lost all color. "I…" he began, and then he swallowed, whispering, "I cannot!" He sounded as though he found that fact surprising, and his eyes went wide and vulnerable. With an unreadable glance at Feia, Legolas turned and walked away through the trees in the opposite direction of the pavilion where King Thranduil awaited him.

Chapter 34:

**Audience**

As badly as she wanted to go to him, Feia did not need Elessar's quelling look to keep her from following Legolas. It was clear that her husband preferred to work through his internal struggles privately.

Galion exhaled a deep sigh. He was anticipating his next conversation with Thranduil with an obvious lack of enthusiasm. Wordlessly the elf bowed and retraced his steps toward the king's pavilion.

"I fear the prince of Eryn Lasgalen is not yet free from danger," Lord Elrond declared.

"What do you mean, Lord Elrond?" Feia asked.

Haldir added, "You do not suspect that King Thranduil will seek to harm him _now,_ my lord!"

"I did not suspect Thranduil would have sought to harm his son _ever,"_ the elven lord admitted, "and yet he did. But no, it is the harm that has already been done which concerns me. Legolas's wounds are deep and raw. His will is strong; but strength is not always a gift, when healing may require that he yield."

XXX

"When will you tell him?"

Feia looked up from where she scrubbed at her garments in the cold stream water. She did not need to ask her sister what she meant by the sudden question.

"Not yet, Meg," she declared, "I would not know myself were it not for Queen Nenuiel! I will give him some time to come to terms with all that has happened before I give him something else to worry about."

"Worry about?" Meg was incredulous, "Do you not think he will be pleased?"

Meg stood in the center of the stream Haldir had shown them. After supper and the revelations that followed, the ladies had desired an opportunity for a few minutes of privacy. Bathing provided them that opportunity and Haldir had provided the place for it. Meg rinsed soap from her skin with the chilly water, which was almost too cold even for her taste, and regarded her sister.

"I think he will be elated!" Feia's response had come after a slight pause, indicating that she was not quite as confident as her words indicated. "But even joyful news can be taxing. Legolas has had more than enough to cope with in these past weeks. He deserves an opportunity to take a breath or two before he finds out that he will be a father."

"I imagine that King Elessar will return to Minas Tirith very soon in anticipation of his own impending fatherhood," Meg said watching Feia carefully.

"I am sure that he will!" Feia agreed. "He left Gondor for friendship, but his heart and his duty must call him back again."

"What of your heart and your duty, sister? I will go where Haldir goes. Where will you go when your husband and your liege lord are no longer together?"

"I do not think the king will seek to place a heavy yoke of servitude upon me, Meggie! He has made little enough of an issue of my allegiance to him thus far!" Feia shook her head, "No, I will serve my king as he sees fit; that is his right! But I trust him. Elessar will not separate me from my husband."

Feia sighed then, adding; "Only Legolas can do that."

XXX

When Legolas ventured to return to the camp, his lady and her sister were not there. He was both relieved and disappointed by Feia's absence and he felt a wave of guilt for his conflicting emotions. His wife deserved much better, but he had nothing better to give to her. Solitude had brought him no peace. His thoughts were all in turmoil.

Glorfindel and Rúmil had joined the circle around the fire and the discussion was serious. All eyes turned toward him at his approach and Legolas froze.

"Ah, good" Lord Elrond said, "We could use the counsel of the prince of the Mirkwood elves."

"Is aught amiss, my lord?" Legolas asked in alarm.

"Nothing new, Legolas," Glorfindel said with a nod of greeting, "we go to meet with King Thranduil; as a courtesy, you understand. We plan what should be said; and what not."

"I have little to add to that discussion," Legolas said stiffening as though preparing to leave again.

"Legolas," Elessar said gently, "your refusal to see him earlier has confused Thranduil. He clamors for news of what transpires and to discover why we are all here assembled."

Legolas closed his eyes briefly, and then squatted to join the circle. "He truly remembers nothing?"

"I have spoken with him," Elrond responded. "He remembers nothing. Nenuiel is caring for him, but her manner with him is understandably distant. His puzzlement over her coolness is palpable. If nothing else, that should convince you."

Legolas only nodded minutely, then after a pause he asked, "And you still deem it best to allow his memories to return of their own accord?"

"Yes, I do."

Legolas tilted his head, "When my people return to Eryn Lasgalen, will their king return with them?"

"I have decided to offer your father the hospitality of Imladris for the foreseeable future, Legolas," Elrond said with grim seriousness.

"And if he refuses?"

Glorfindel said, "We have agreed that in that event we shall be forced to insist. Do you disagree?"

"No." Legolas shifted to look in the direction of his father's pavilion.

"We should tell him that we came in response to the yrch threat and no more."

"That is the proposal which Lord Elrond also makes," Rúmil said. The elf of the golden wood glanced at his brother, giving him a confirming nod and Haldir said, "With Legolas's ratification of the plan, Lórien sees no reason to dispute it."

"Nor do I," Glorfindel agreed. "King Elessar? Lord Gimli?"

"We are here out of friendship," Elessar said. "I think Gimli will agree that we consider this matter a strictly elvish one."

"Aye," Gimli readily allowed.

"Still, you should both accompany us for this audience," Elladan said.

Elrohir nodded, "King Thranduil knows that you are here and he will think it odd if you do not."

With that, Lord Elrond rose and bade them all join him with a gracefully beckoning hand; then he turned toward the pavilion of the king of Eryn Lasgalen. Elessar and Gimli waited to bring up the rear and so it was that they flanked Legolas, whose expression was utterly blank.

XXX

Within the pavilion, Thranduil rested on a raised pallet, propped on pillows and covered in a fur robe. Iron firedogs provided heat and light. Nenuiel stood to the right of her lord's bed while Galion stood at the king's left side. By unspoken agreement, when the leaders of the elven army entered, Elrond, Glorfindel and Haldir approached Thranduil while Legolas waited with the rest beside the entrance.

Legolas looked up once and met his mother's anxious gaze, but then he crossed his arms and concentrated on the design of the carpet that covered the ground. He felt drained, though the interview had yet to begin.

"What is the meaning of this, Elrond?" Thranduil demanded, "I am given no information to fill in the many months which I have lost. My questions remain unanswered! My summonses are ignored!" With that he glared at Legolas who looked up and met his father's eyes with an unblinking stare. Discomfited, the king looked away, but then he continued smoothly, "And now you all descend upon me at once! Is this an audience or a tribunal?"

Legolas shivered inwardly. His father was perceptive. He may remember nothing, but he did not miss the mood in the camp or the reactions to him, however subtle. He may remember nothing, but he could guess that his actions during his lost days must be suspect.

"We are the leaders of the war party which has come to Southern Mirkwood, Thranduil," Lord Elrond responded. "We are here as a courtesy to you. You did ask to see us."

"Yes!" the elven king spluttered, "Hours ago I asked; your courtesy is lacking. Now tell me what has been happening here. This is still my realm, is it not?"

Glorfindel answered with a slight smile and a bow, "King Thranduil," he said, "Have you been expanding your demesne? I was unaware that you had claimed Southern Mirkwood as a part of your kingdom."

Thranduil frowned, "All Mirkwood has traditionally been my responsibility. Why is it now necessary for Lórien and Imladris to become involved in what happens here? And I see the King of Gondor and a Dwarf as well. Has this become a matter for the other races? Is there a force of men and dwarves in my wood?"

"Your majesty, this is Gimli son of Gloin of the Misty Mountains," Elessar said, bowing from his place by the door. "We two and one other are the only ones not elves in this force. I assure you, we are here out of friendship, and in no other capacity."

"Friendship…" the elven king said deliberately. "Will my son now do nothing without the protection of his precious Fellowship?"

Legolas stared at his father in silence. His face remained smooth but his eyes flashed. Thranduil chuckled as though he had made a joke that they all shared. Then without taking his eyes from Legolas's face he said, "And who is this 'one other'? Is it the woman? Is it the human to whom my son has bound himself?" Legolas's eyes widened perceptibly and Thranduil laughed again. "I have heard the elves speaking outside my door. They all talk of this supposedly immortal woman whom the prince has taken to wife. They tell of her beauty and her bravery. I should like to meet this paragon of a daughter-in-law, Legolas. Go! Fetch for me your lady."

Legolas was flushed and shaking with suppressed anger. "I will not allow you anywhere near my lady!" he grated, turning to leave the pavilion.

"So, is it the lady which stands between us, my son?" Thranduil asked in a surprisingly gentle voice. Legolas froze with his back to the king, "Will you now say what our contention is? For I tell you, Legolas, I recall no argument with you."

His father had been goading him, Legolas realized. He was fishing for the reason behind their estrangement. There was hurt in Thranduil's voice that was far more painful to bear than the anger had been.

Legolas crossed his arms more tightly over his chest and closed his eyes, shuddering. Choking bile rose in his throat, but he swallowed hard and said, "Im uva úpedo." _I will not say._ Then he strode from the pavilion.

Chapter 35:

**Seeking Lost Days**

Elessar, Gimli and Haldir relayed the results of the audience with Thranduil to Feia and Meg. The disposition of the king of the woodland elves had not been easy. Legolas's desertion baffled him, and he sensed there were grave events being left unreported in his presence. When Lord Elrond had suggested that the elven king might recover from his ordeal better at Imladris, Thranduil had not been fooled into believing he was being offered a choice in the matter.

Fortunately, the elven king had chosen not to dispute his exile for the time being.

Despite orders from Meghailin that he should sleep again, Legolas did not return to the camp that night. He appeared at first light, when Suluin and twenty other Mirkwood elves were preparing to start upon their scouting mission to Eryn Lasgalen.

Seeking his wife, Legolas found her where she was seated alone, re-braiding her hair. Feia stood silently at his approach and he reached out and framed her face with his hands, "Orenya, I will go with Suluin and prepare the way for my people to return to Eryn Lasgalen. Lord Elrond and the elves of Rivendell will begin their journey home this morning. Will you go with them? I will be no more than ten days behind you."

"I will, Legolas," Feia agreed. She studied his face, but his thoughts were shielded from her. "Meg tells me that you still require more rest than usual, Edhel nin. Please do not overextend yourself!"

In silent acquiescence, Legolas bent and touched her mouth with his. He had meant the gesture to be brief, but the contact pierced a hole in his defenses and he found that he needed something more. Wrapping his wife tightly in his embrace he drew the sweetness from her with a deep and tender kiss.

When he drew away, Legolas took Feia's hands. He pressed his lips to her hair and then to her fingers, before guiding her across the clearing to where the King of Gondor was mending a hole in his tunic.

Without preamble, Legolas asked, "Will you see that my lady arrives at Imladris safely before you return to Minas Tirith, Elessar?"

With a quirked brow, Elessar stood and responded, "I wonder what I may do to protect her that well over two hundred elves cannot, but yes; I will travel with your lady to Rivendell, Legolas. I will remain there until your arrival."

"And will you release her from her duty to you for a time? It may be many months before I can return to Gondor."

Elessar smiled, "I believe the oath of a lady to her husband supercedes her oath to a king, my friend – at least most of the time."

"If you two are quite finished passing me off into one another's care?" Feia's arms were crossed under her breasts and her eyes were slits.

"Hoo boy, Laddies," Gimli chuckled as he approached with Meg and Haldir. "I suggest you each find somewhere else to be for the next little while."

"I am going to Eryn Lasgalen, Gimli," Legolas said with a wicked grin. "I shall be out of the lady's reach for several days."

A genuine smile, even that devilish one, on her husband's face was Feia's undoing. It had been missing for so long! Melting helplessly, Feia felt tears threatening again. To cover her reaction she reached out and seized the shoulder strap of Legolas's quiver and hauled him down so that she could cover that wonderful smile with a quick, firm kiss. Then, grinning mischievously, she raised herself up on her toes and kissed King Elessar's beard-roughened face, bent and pressed her lips to Gimli's brow, and stretched again to do the same to Haldir's smooth cheek.

Finally, with a wink for Meg and a saucy smile for her husband she ordered, "Come safely to Rivendell, Edhel nin!" and she sauntered away.

"What in thunder was that about?" Gimli asked in consternation. His cheeks were deeply stained with red. Elessar merely raised his eyebrows eloquently.

Meg smiled, "I think it was about my sister finding you all irresistible. That in no way means she will not resist you if the occasion merits it, however, so do not let it go to your heads." She turned her attention fully upon Legolas, "You are not getting the rest you need, my lord," she accused.

Legolas had been staring after Feia with a somewhat startled expression, but he answered the healer with a bow, "On my wife's orders, I shall not overextend myself, my lady."

"See that you do not!" Meg insisted. "You make a very poor patient and I would dearly like to see an end to the need for it!"

Legolas bowed again, and so he did not see the faces of his friends change from amusement to unease until he raised his eyes. His grin faltered in confusion and then from behind him, his father said, "And why does my son require a healer? Are you unwell, Legolas?"

"I am well," Legolas responded in a flat voice, "and I was just about to take my leave, my lord." With that he bent in a general bow to the group and made to withdraw.

"How long will I be forced to address your retreating back, Sén nin?"

Legolas stopped and half turned, "I do not know."

"You are going with Suluin?"

"Yes."

"Do you go to Eryn Lasgalen in order to try out the feel of my throne, Legolas?" Thranduil asked.

"I go to Eryn Lasgalen to see the way clear for my people!"

"You say my people, not our people," Thranduil murmured and Legolas stiffened. "I am an exiled king. I have a reluctant wife and an estranged son. And now, it seems that I have no people. Do you not think that I have a right to know why?"

"The decision not to tell you was made by those wiser in these matters than I, Ada."

"Well, I am Ada again, that is something," Thranduil said. "Will you stay and look after your people, Legolas? They do not require very much leadership, but this is a trying time and your presence would be a comfort to them."

"I am not needed," Legolas said, shaking his head. "Nane or Galion can do what must be done."

"But…"

"I cannot stay in Eryn Lasgalen!" Legolas's voice was unsteady despite his best effort.

"Why?!" Thranduil took a step toward his son and placed a hand on his shoulder causing Legolas to jerk away involuntarily. The elven king dropped his hand, "Do you not understand? I must know why, Legolas. If you will not tell me, then show me. Let me share your memories so that I may know how I have wounded you!"

Legolas spun to face his father at last and Thranduil gasped, taking a step back. His son was pale and trembling, with hunted eyes. "No!" Legolas said, and his voice now sounded tormented. "I will not! Do not ask it again!" and then he strode away to where Suluin and the other scouts awaited him. In moments the scouts and their prince had moved into the trees and were gone.

Thranduil turned to his son's companions and saw that they were all taking pains to keep their expressions neutral. Frowning, the elven king turned, his heavy robes flaring, and returned to the pavilion where preparations were underway to begin the journey to Imladris.

XXX

Just as the elves of Rivendell and Lórien had come without question to the aid of their woodland cousins, they also cleared out of Mirkwood rapidly when that aid was no longer needed. Feia was learning that elves on Middle Earth were odd about accepting assistance. Apparently the woodland elves were more comfortable reclaiming their home without the help of their kin.

The return to Rivendell was far more tranquil than the journey to Dol Guldur had been. The elves still moved a fair distance that first day, but they somehow achieved it while seemingly in no particular rush. The evening's camp was made at dusk, which was coming noticeably earlier now, as autumn began to hold the scent of approaching winter. The fading light had a crystalline edge to it and a depth of hue that spoke of countless layers of cold and cooling air separating the earth from the stars.

A disturbing sensation of being watched caused Feia to shiver almost as much as the cold did. She was caring for Yáviëlosse while Haldir rubbed down Linnêl and Hithui. Meg and Gimli were preparing an evening meal while Elessar and Rúmil gathered wood for their fire. Elladan and Elrohir had set out to scout the vicinity the moment the campsite had been selected.

The elves were not really an army, though they could certainly behave as one at need. The camp looked more like a very large group of companions traveling together. The Lórien elves were with them for the time being, and there was much visiting and sharing taking place between elves who had not seen one another for a very long time; in some cases as long as centuries. Now that the woodland elves were safe with no further casualties, the company had taken on an almost festive air with one notable exception.

Thranduil shared a fire with Elrond and Glorfindel, and it was not merry. Most of the elves studiously ignored Thranduil unless he addressed them directly. Whether they were being respectful of the recovering king, or they were as uncomfortable with his presence as Feia was, it was difficult to say. It was Thranduil who was watching her, just as he had been all day. Elessar had not failed to mention that Thranduil was aware of her relationship with Legolas. The elven king must be very curious about her, and yet Feia could not bring herself to meet that searching gaze.

She did not fear Legolas's father, exactly. Lord Elrond and Lord Glorfindel would never permit Thranduil to harm anyone even if he should choose to try. Feia had no doubt that the elven patriarch and the high elf lord were capable of subduing the woodland king if need be. In all likelihood they were fully prepared to do so while being scrupulously polite – even friendly toward Thranduil.

No, it was not fear that made Feia feel so very vulnerable as Legolas's father studied her. Those who should know were convinced that Thranduil did not remember the terrible things he had done. Meg had told her how hurt and confused the elven king had sounded when he confronted Legolas that morning and Feia found herself feeling compassion for her father-in-law. And yet there was no doubt he was responsible for the deaths of thirteen elves and for torturing his son in ways far beyond cruelty. Legolas's own father had laid him so low – had stripped away everything until there was little left but pain and grief; so that Feia feared her husband might never fully recover.

Feia was not sure that she could speak to the elven king or even look at him without feeling compelled to ask him how he could possibly have forgotten.

And so Thranduil stared, and she ignored him. After caring for her mount, Feia dropped her blanket roll beside the fire so that she could sit with her back to the king of the woodland elves. When she folded herself down onto it, however, she was acutely aware of his presence behind her.

After eating, Feia, with Elladan, carried the dishes to the spring beside which the camp had been set out. It felt good to be out from under that constant scrutiny for a while. When they returned to the fire it was to find that Elessar and Gimli had produced their pipes and were contentedly taking it in turn to impress one another with the size and quantity of their smoke rings.

As inevitable as the king and the dwarf with their pipes, was Elrohir's request for music. At the other fires, pipes meant for an entirely different use than smoking, as well as lutes, small drums and any number of other musical instruments, were appearing from elven packs. Meghailin obligingly tuned the gitar that Haldir had fetched for her from her gear and suggested a song that was a particular favorite of Feia's. Soon Feia was lost in the music and completely at ease as she and Meg sang harmonies that they had sung together many times before.

It was a wonderful evening of music and good spirits. When a song at one fire faded, musicians at another fire would step in so that the night was filled with a continuous stream of melody.

Later, thirteen elves would be mourned; but tonight the Mirkwood elves were free, the evil lingering at Dol Guldur had been removed, the spell to destroy Legolas's soul had been thwarted, and there had been no further deaths. But Feia observed the elves around her and noticed that quite frequently their expressions became abstracted, like the dreamy expression Haldir had been wearing since yesterday. The impossible had occurred – a fanar of the Lady Galadriel had walked amongst them, having crossed what was considered to be an impenetrable veil. For the elves, that was more than enough cause for wonder and for celebration.

Feia's reason for celebrating was absent, yet she was free from fear for her Concinnate for the first time since they had met. Strictly speaking, what Legolas was doing could not be considered safe; but the elf, well at last and in full possession of all his considerable skills, was as secure scouting for orc as Feia was protected sitting here in a camp full of his heavily armed brethren. Without the awful weight of anxiety for her husband, Feia was feeling buoyant. She had forgotten Lord Elrond's warning.

"My lady," Rúmil interrupted Feia's pleasant thoughts of Legolas, "when first I saw you, I thought you were among the loveliest of women; but now that I have had the opportunity to see the radiance of that smile I must amend my initial opinion. If there is any woman, anywhere who is lovelier, I have yet to see her."

"You are charming me again, Lord Rúmil," Feia responded, dimpling at the elf who sat at his ease to her left. "I have seen enough elven ladies to know that the most beautiful woman beside them is a dandelion in a garden of lilies and wild sweet orchids."

"Ah! But Lady Feia!" the elf insisted. "One of the most appealing flowers in Middle Earth is the elenor which grows in Lothlorien beneath the Mallorn trees. It is not so very different from the dandelion. Even so, I would not compare you with a dandelion, but with an autumn rose. Such a one does not hide in the company of lilies and orchids; but by its rich and vibrant beauty doth draw the eye to itself."

Feia laughed merrily, "My lord, you must stop practicing your flirtations at once! When you set your sights upon the lady you have been practicing for, she will not credit your sincerity if you are too skilled!"

Rúmil smiled and bowed where he sat, "I thank you for your instruction, my lady. I shall endeavor to be less skilled when the object of my flirtation might return my regard, for well do I know that the smile I so admire upon your fair face was set there by another." The Lórien elf's expression became more serious, "It is a great relief to us all, my lady, that your husband is well."

"By the grace of The Lady, the horror of these past days is over, my lord. Legolas is alive, and it is over!" Feia's voice shook with the threat of more tears. She smiled self-deprecatingly and squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to contain them, but she could not. "I do not know how it can be possible that I have a single tear left!" she complained.

"Why should my son's wife spend all of her tears?" Thranduil said from behind her. Feia turned in startlement and looked up mutely at the king of Eryn Lasgalen.

"I thought you intended to compliment the lady on her singing, Thranduil," Glorfindel cautioned at the elven king's side.

"I intended to meet my daughter-in-law, Glorfindel," Thranduil responded with a hard look at the high elf lord.

Feia gathered herself to stand with Rúmil on one side and Gimli on the other; her other friends were attentive, most particularly Elessar, who was also standing and had positioned himself behind his liege lady where the elven king could not fail to see him. The Mask of the First made Feia's expression unreadable.

Returning his attention to his son's lady, Thranduil smiled slightly in acknowledgement of her protectors before he continued, "I find myself wondering why Rúmil of Lórien should be relieved that Legolas is well, and why my son's lady looks upon these past days with horror. That Legolas lives renders her unable to keep from weeping; why should this be? These things I wonder."

Feia bent in a slight bow to Thranduil, "King Thranduil, for my part I am also wondering many things. Chiefly, I wonder how it can be possible that you recall neither a reason for horror, nor a cause for tears. I am flattered that you enjoyed the singing, but if there is aught else you wish to say to me, I would prefer that you say it in the presence of my husband after his return." Feia bowed again, "We have now met. I wish you a pleasant evening, my lord," she said, and waited.

Thranduil's cheeks flushed with anger at being so addressed and then quite obviously dismissed. But then, very slowly, he smiled. And then he laughed. It was, in all likelihood, the first genuine expression of mirth he had made since awakening to discover he had lost a year and a half of time and all else he valued with it.

"Your message is clear, my lady," Thranduil said with a bow, still smiling. "You are angry with me, and you will not help me reconcile with my son. And yet you make it plain that you also will not stand in the way of such a reconciliation, but will take your cues from Legolas. A dutiful thing to do, though I feel sure that I shall find little enough occasion to use that term whilst describing you.

Yes, now we have met, my lady and I look forward to crossing swords with you again. Goodnight," and with another bow, Thranduil withdrew. Glorfindel turned to follow, but paused to peer over his shoulder at Feia with his eyebrows lifted expressively. Then with a brief inclination of his head, he silently shadowed the woodland king.

Only when her father-in-law and the high elven lord were gone did Feia turn around and sit again facing the fire. She closed her eyes and blew out a long breath, folding her hands to still their trembling.

"Well!" Gimli chortled. "That should give his royal elvishness something to gnaw on for awhile." Then with a frown, he added, "Unfortunately I think he is more fascinated by you than ever, my lady. If you thought to put an end to his scrutiny of you, I suspect you should think again."

"I can tolerate his staring, Lord Gimli, so long as he respects my wishes and keeps clear of me," Feia responded. "He is right; I am angry. And I fear if put to the test, I would acquaint the king of the Mirkwood elves with everything he has done in these past weeks despite the good advice of Meghailin and Lord Elrond. How can he not remember?"

"Instead ask: if he remembered, could he possibly survive it?" Elessar corrected. Feia's eyes grew thoughtful and she nodded to acknowledge the point, but she said nothing.

Chapter 36:

**Beginnings**

The company moved south and west toward the Gap of Rohan, for it was far too late in the season to risk the high passes without need. They skirted close to Lórien and made an early camp.

Feia drank in the sound of elven merriment through that long, cool night. She also enjoyed the opportunity to observe her sister. Meg was more comfortable here than Feia had ever seen her.

The elves of Alderaan had been almost completely integrated into the predominately human culture to the point that, over time, elven lifespans had actually shortened to more closely match their human neighbors. Before gaining immortality, Alderaani humans could expect to live for three or four hundred years. Elves might live for twice that, perhaps a bit longer. Undeniably, the Alderaani elves had retained their language and music. They produced more gifted healers and they tended to gravitate toward the arts and intellectual pursuits, or toward activities that particularly require grace and physical precision. Foresight was almost exclusively an elven gift. But even so, the differences between the races were much less discernible on Alderaan. Feia could not remember a time when she had been in the presence of such a large group of elves while herself representing a human minority.

Meghailin was half-elven, but she and Derek had always more strongly favored their elven father, in both attribute and appearance, than they had reflected their human mother's traits. And so this total immersion in elvishness was a treat for Feia's sister. Meg wore the expression of a person who had just sunk up to the chin in steaming bathwater after a long and trying day, and had only now realized how stiff and sore she had become.

Occasionally, Meg would beam at her sister, expressing her pleasure with a happy sigh and Feia would smile back at her in silent understanding.

After a long night during which no one felt the need for rest or sleep, Rúmil and the elves of Lothlorien bid their companions farewell.

Haldir's brother took respectful leave of Lord Elrond and Lord Glorfindel. He bowed in turn to King Elessar and Lord Gimli, and to the twin son's of Elrond. Over the ladies hands, Rúmil bent and charmed them each once more in parting.

"My sister," the elf said to Meg, "I wait in anticipation of the day I may welcome you home to Lothlorien. Your presence shall make the golden wood once again worthy of its name."

Then turning his attention to Serafé, the gracious elf sighed, "I wonder? Shall I ever again have eyes to appreciate the lily and the orchid, now that I have beheld a rose?"

Haldir clasped his brother's shoulder and the two communicated silently for several moments. It was not yet the time to bring his bride home to Lórien. Haldir sensed he would be away from Caras Galadhon for some time to come.

XXX

Legolas bent and retrieved the shard of what had once been a statue of Nimrodel dancing. The sculpture was old, and had stood in the courtyard outside his rooms since before he was born. During the desecration of Eryn Lasgalen, nothing of grace had escaped ruin, but the beatific face of the elven maid had sheared off nearly in one piece. Running his fingers over the cool marble, Legolas felt an overwhelming desire to close those staring eyes against the sight of what had become of his home.

None of the scouts who had come along on this mission had truly believed that their abandoned city might have escaped the yrch's need for violence and destruction. Even so, they had been unprepared for the total devastation that they had found.

Fires had been set randomly throughout the home of the woodland elves. There was not a scroll or a book, a painting or a tapestry that was not torn, soiled, or burned. Sculptures of stone, like that of Nimrodel the Fair were shattered. Sculptures of wood and graceful elven furniture had been broken and tossed onto the bonfires leaving only charred remnants to speak of their fate. Yrch filth covered everything and foul writing was scrawled over once pristine walls. Gardens had been torn up and set to the torch. Even the stones set in the cobbled courtyards had been cracked and smashed.

Grief. It filled Legolas and choked him. It tore at his raw emotions and left him feeling beaten and exhausted. He had failed to heed the advice of Lady Meghailin, for he could not rest. He could not be still. He feared what the stillness would bring. He feared this…the wreckage of Eryn Lasgalen that mirrored the desolation of his heart.

It would be so easy to lie here and sleep – to sleep forever never to wake. It would be such welcome relief to close his eyes. They were cool and dry – as detached as the marble eyes of Nimrodel. The grief called to him; lulled him. The stillness seduced him.

Ten days. He had made a promise. He had promised his lady he would be no more than ten days behind her. Legolas gasped in a breath of air and it was as though he were starving for it. He was cold, he realized; chilled through. Opening his eyes he found himself on his knees, collapsed over a broken stone bench. The sun's placement showed that more than an hour had passed with him unaware.

Legolas pulled his cloak around him, shuddering. Life and death had played a child's tugging game with him as the prize, and it had been a very close contest. Legolas wanted to be pleased that he yet lived, but there was only numbness.

As he pushed himself to his feet, Legolas saw the face of Nimrodel staring up at him from the ground. He must have dropped it, for the marble likeness of the lovely elf had broken in two.

XXX

Suluin would not wait to begin clearing the debris from Eryn Lasgalen. He put the scouts to work at once, entrusting Legolas with the task of reporting their findings to the queen and their people.

"Edhelothlva hiruva e lenna yesta gwain, ernil nin," Suluin said. _Our people will find a way to begin again, my prince._ And then the elven scout had grinned and added, "Utúvienyes sí a sí!" _I have found a way here and now!_

With that, Suluin stooped and gathered up a shredded and filthy tapestry, hauling it away. Legolas left the scouting party as they undertook the first stage of the reclamation of Eryn Lasgalen. Suluin had found his way to begin again, but Legolas would have to find another.

When he reached Dol Calenlor, Legolas prepared his mother and Galion as well as he could for what awaited them upon their return home. He knew there was no way he could soften the effect that the first sight of the desecration of Eryn Lasgalen would have on his people, but he did his best.

After a hurried meal, the woodland prince made brief farewells and mounted Arod. Nenuiel kept her concern for her son silent as she watched him ride away toward Imladris for the second time in just a few weeks. He was in far better condition than the last time he had set out thus, and yet her confidence that she would see him again was less.

XXX

When the company of elves returned to Rivendell, a most surprising welcoming committee greeted them. Elladan and Elrohir had ridden hard that last day to bring tidings of victory to their father's house, and they had found esteemed visitors awaiting them.

With their diminutive guests before them on their horses, the twin sons of Elrond rode to the crossing of the Bruinin. There the company found them soon after.

At sight of them, Gimli gave a happy cry from his perch at Haldir's back and said, "You rascals! I see you have managed to wait in comfort while the rest of us did all of the work, as usual!"

"That is hardly fair, Master Dwarf!" Meriodoc Brandybuck complained with a wink at his companion. "And after we have come all this way bearing gifts."

With that the two hobbits bowed in their seats and spoke a fair greeting to Lord Elrond and the others, then the company set out to cover the remaining distance to The Last Homely House.

"Did you say gifts?" Gimli said as they rode, a gleam of speculation in his eyes.

"Of course, if you don't want your share, we can get a good price for it in Minas Tirith," Peregrin Took said, grinning wide enough to split his face. "Enough to keep a couple of hobbits in comfort through the winter, I should think."

"At least that much," Merry agreed. "Peony Burrows is forever smoking away her own profits. She never manages to keep up with the demand at The Tree."

"That will be enough of that, my lads," Gimli laughed. "If you have pipeweed and you insist upon selling it, you'll be selling it to me!"

"Let us return to Master Elrond's splendid house and break open a cask," Pippin said grandly. "Then we can discuss it."

"May the king join you?" Elessar asked with a grin, "or is this to be a private party?"

"What nonsense!" Merry stated, "It's a well known fact that kings don't smoke. Far too common a pastime, you know. Now, rangers are another matter. I knew a ranger once who could almost out-smoke old Gandalf. Went by the name of Strider, he did."

"Is that so?" Elessar said, "Funny people, rangers; you really never know where one of them might turn up."

"We'll keep our eyes open," Pippin said, nodding sagely. Then he said, "Is anyone planning on telling us where Legolas is? The elves here said he was leading this little excursion."

"Prince Legolas is taking care of a family matter, Master Peregrin," Elrond responded. "He will be along in a few days…if all goes well."

Feia had been smiling to herself inside her hood, greatly enjoying her first experience of hobbits, but Lord Elrond's tone recalled to her his warning. I fear the prince of Eryn Lasgalen is not yet free from danger. Feia's smile slid from her face and she shivered.

Then Thranduil, who had been withdrawn and sullen since his conversation with his son's lady, said, "If Prince Legolas would attend to family matters, then he should be here attending his father."

"And what would you have him do for you, Thranduil?" Glorfindel asked. "He cannot speed your recovery, nor restore to you your memories."

"No, he cannot restore my memory," Thranduil agreed. "But he could share with me his, and that would be a beginning. My son could do that for me, but he refuses."

Pippin had gone quiet at this exchange with King Thranduil of Mirkwood, for this striking elf could be no other and claim Legolas as his son. The hobbit could sense that serious matters indeed were alluded to in what was being said and not said. He looked to his friends and saw that Elessar had gone grim while Gimli scowled darkly, and even Haldir's smooth elven features were creased with concern.

It was the better part of wisdom to say nothing, Pippin thought to himself, but somehow he found that words were being said and he was the one who was saying them, "If Legolas refuses to do something he must surely have a very good reason." Pippin's eyes widened perceptibly as he realized whom he was addressing while claiming knowledge of what his elven friend would and would not do.

Thranduil glared at the hobbit and his eyes were like blue chips of ice. Pippin was truly afraid under the scrutiny of this elven king. He could sense the power and will behind those eyes and he knew that there was cause to fear if this being decided that he was an enemy.

It was hard to imagine that this could be Legolas's sire; Legolas with his soft smile and gentle ways. But then again, when Legolas fought during The War of the Ring, or when he spoke of the Enemy, there had been nothing soft or gentle about him and Pippin had seen in his eyes that same power and will. Perhaps Legolas was his father's son after all.

At last the woodland king subsided, lost in his own thoughts, and Pippin was free from his scrutiny. The hobbit breathed a sigh and glanced again at his friends. Elessar was smiling at him and shaking his head, Gimli's eyes were wide, but Merry rolled his eyes heavenward and slapped a hand to his forehead. Pippin could only shrug ruefully and silently vow to stay out of King Thranduil's way in the future.

XXX

The companions gathered in the garden where the Gate to Gwynedd stood like a mirror reflecting only light. Lord Elrond had seen to it that a columnar stand was placed near the Gate upon which was set the Gate Cube. Merry was beside the stand, which came up to his nose, and he peered curiously at the tiny device while Feia explained its use.

Elessar had introduced the ladies when, after refreshing themselves, they had joined the gathered members of the Fellowship and Haldir in the garden. They had found the group beneath a cloud of smoke that Haldir was tolerating with good humor. Elves simply were not susceptible to the lure of pipeweed.

The hobbits were overjoyed at the news that their friend Haldir had wed, but Elessar introduced Feia only by name and as his liege lady. Later he had suggested privately that her other status might better be disclosed to their friends by Legolas when he joined them. Feia could not argue with that, for she suspected that Legolas would prefer to be present when this news was shared with the hobbits.

"And so the Gate remains open only so long as the Cube is on this side of it, my lady?" Merry asked.

"That is correct, Master Merry," Feia confirmed. "Or I can use an incantation on the Cube to close the Gate. Either way, it cannot be opened again."

"I think I should like to visit other worlds," Pippin announced. "Are they very much different from this one?"

Meghailin responded, "Some of them are different in the extreme, Master Pippin. Some of them are very similar. But on every world I have seen, the similarities far outweigh the differences. On every world people strive to find happiness. They work, they suffer, they mourn, they laugh, they create music and art, and they love. Everywhere there is friendship to be found. And everywhere some are led astray from the way of love and they hurt one another. These things are the same.

But I can honestly say that I have never found hobbits on any world before. If you are not unique, you are certainly a rare people."

Pippin grinned broadly at this news, but Merry's face was screwed up in a thoughtful expression, "What about your language? How is it that you and Lady Feia speak Westron?"

"Ah! An interesting question, Master Merry!" Feia exclaimed. "From what we can discover, all of the worlds where there are humans and elves were originally populated from a single world. It happened so long ago in antiquity that even elves have no memory of when or how this took place, or why for that matter. And you can be sure that wherever there are humans, who always tend to be the more numerous of those two races, there are also elves.

On some worlds the races have absolutely nothing to do with one another; there are even worlds where the elves exist only in hiding, so little do they desire to mingle with their human neighbors. Men on those worlds consider elves nothing but a legend lost in the distant past. On some worlds the races even make war upon one another; whilst on others they coexist so closely that they are very nearly, although never quite, a single race. That is how it was on Alderaan, our home world.

The language you know as Westron is the common tongue of humans, and it is believed that it is a variant of the original language spoken on that first world. The same is true of Elvish."

"You say you have run across no hobbits on your travels," Gimli said, "What of dwarves?"

"Dwarves are numerous in the universe, Lord Gimli," Meg responded, "but there is not that link that appears to exist between men and elves. Often Dwarves represent the third race on a world with humans and elves, but there are also worlds entirely populated by dwarves alone, or by dwarves and some of the rarer races. There are some very interesting beings populating the many worlds. The dwarven tongue has similarities from world to world as well. It may be that dwarves also originated on a single planet."

"And I thought there was a great deal to learn on Middle Earth!" Merry complained. "How am I to begin learning everything in a vast universe of worlds?"

"You shall have time, Master Merry, for hobbits and the other mortal races of Middle Earth have recently joined the ranks of the immortal," Feia said with a smile.

"We what?" Pippin said, incredulous. "How did we do that?"

"You did not have to do anything," Meg answered. "Or at least, nothing you have not already done. It was simply time. Perhaps as a valiant member of the Fellowship, you can take a bit of the credit for allowing your world to continue into the fourth age. You can consider immortality your gift for a job well done, if you wish."

"It is as good an explanation as any," Feia said with a shrug and a nod.

"So you are admitting that you do not have an explanation for everything," Elessar said half seriously.

"We never claimed to, sire!" Feia laughed. "And If the Powers That Be offered me all of the answers to every question, I think I would beg off – thank you very much. It seems that the more information you are given, the more responsibility you are given to go along with it."

"That is the way with all knowledge," Haldir confirmed. "Be wary of it Master Meriodoc!"

"There is some knowledge I would happily gain," Feia said. "I would dearly love to visit The Shire and learn what I may of its singular people! And I should like to meet Samwise the Stouthearted!"

Merry bowed where he stood and said, "You may consider yourself invited, my lady. We would gladly show you our home and introduce you to our friend. He does not get out of the Shire very often now that he is mayor of Hobbiton, and his heart isn't the only thing that is stout these days."

Elessar grinned around the stem of his pipe, "Sam is not the only one going soft, Merry. It has been some time since you and Pippin have come to Rohan and Gondor to fulfill your oaths. You may find your duties more strenuous than you remember them."

"Our duty is one of the reasons we have come here, Elessar," Pippin responded. "We merely stopped in Rivendell to pay our respects to Lord Elrond."

"And to pick up a few elvish provisions, you know," Merry interrupted.

"Naturally," Elessar put in.

"Anyway," Pippin continued, "We were heading for Gondor to spend the winter. Then we thought we might move on to Meduseld in late spring after the Entwash recedes, and stay in Rohan through the summer. But when we got here, the elves told us something was afoot in the Mirkwood and that you had all gone off to deal with it. We decided to wait so that we could get news and then travel with you when you return to Minas Tirith."

"An excellent plan," Elessar said, "however I might suggest another. I think that after you have had your fill of the hospitality of elves, you should return to The Shire and save your visit to Gondor until next autumn, otherwise you shall be leaving just at the time when my child will be born."

"Your child!" Merry went to Elessar and pumped the king's hand with his two in an enthusiastic grip. Pippin congratulated his friend with an equally enthusiastic handclasp. After that the two hobbits linked arms and spun around in an impromptu dance, singing a hobbitish song called "Happy Beginnings," while the others laughed and clapped in delight.

_Pale green barley shoots in rich dark soil_

_Spring cleaning dust from the smial_

_Tight pink buds on the cherry tree_

_Singing bird and busy buzzing bee_

_Blushing maid in her wedding gown_

_Tiny babe with hair of down_

_New-breached cask of the best stout ale_

_Happy beginnings to a happy tale!_


	7. Summerland Chapters 37 to 44

**Naeore Laerien** (Summerland of the Heart)

Chapter 37:

**Lost Days Restored **

It was not the tenth day, but sixth from the companions' arrival in Rivendell that saw Legolas ride unheralded through the arched gate of Elrond's home. He went first to the stables in order to see to Arod, and there he encountered Pippin, who was feeding a treat of apples to three ponies.

"Well!" Pippin said at sight of the elf, "Everyone is accounted for now. I do hope that your family business went well, Master Elf."

"Well enough, Master Hobbit," Legolas conjured a small smile and bowed. "Your presence here is a happy surprise. I see three ponies; are Merry and Sam with you?"

"Sam can't be moved from his table at the Green Dragon where he handles the business of being Mayor. Though from what I can tell, the business of being Mayor of Hobbiton consists mostly of gossip, smoking, and the consumption of beer. Merry's come along, though.

We meant to head on to Gondor, but Strider tells us that there is an excellent reason to put off our journey. We will wait until next year so that we can see the young prince or princess! It was a pleasant jaunt to Rivendell, however, and handy that you all happened to be available for a visit!"

Pippin had been rambling away cheerfully, but then he realized he might have offended his friend. Quickly he added, "Of course, the elves here tell us that there was some sort of trouble off in the Mirkwood with your people, Legolas. The others will say very little about it. Was it something awfully bad?"

"It was…awfully bad," Legolas admitted. "But the worst is over. My people will be well." After a pause in which the elf's expression was oddly abstracted, Legolas smiled and gestured for the hobbit to join him, "Come, my friend! Let us find the others and commence visiting."

But Pippin frowned slightly when the elven prince turned toward the exit of the stables. Something was not entirely right with his friend. Pippin could not put his finger on the why of it, but Legolas's eyes seemed distant and strange; his good humor forced. Something awfully bad indeed must have happened.

They made it only so far as the main courtyard of Rivendell before Thranduil found them.

"So, Legolas, you must have ridden at speed to arrive here so quickly. Why do you flee from your woodland home?"

Without removing his eyes from his father's, Legolas said, "Pippin, go on ahead. I will join you anon."

The hobbit paused to look carefully at his elvish companion, but Legolas had adopted the smooth featured, unreadable expression that Pippin had never been able to penetrate. With a courteous and hasty bow, Peregrin Took all but fled.

"I see you have somehow managed to terrorize at least one of the hobbits, Ada. Was that entirely necessary?"

"That one has a lot of cheek, and should learn to moniter his words with more care. If he has determined to be wary of me, that is to his benefit; though 'terrorize' is a bit harsh, Sén nin."

Legolas sighed, but did not comment. After a pause, he asked, "Have you…are you feeling any better, my lord?"

"You mean, have my memories returned? No. No, they have not."

"I…I am sorry," Legolas stammered, crossing his arms over his chest as though against a chill.

Thranduil frowned. Legolas's eyes had dropped. He could not seem to master himself anymore and his father longed to know the cause. Something had shaken his son to his foundations – something to do with him…but what?

"You say that you are sorry, and yet you have it within your power to aid me in recapturing the days which I have lost. You have chosen not to."

Legolas winced, "Even did Lord Elrond agree that it would be to your benefit, Ada, still I would not share my memories with you. It is not choice, but necessity."

"Necessity?" Thranduil repeated, "What foolishness is this? What necessity could compel you to withhold your assistance from me? Am I not your father? Am I not your king?"

"You are my father and my king," Legolas immediately acknowledged with a deep respectful bow.

"As your king, I could command you to comply!" Thranduil insisted. Unreasoning anger flared hot and fast in the woodland king. Why did Legolas remain so stubborn? Why did he refuse? He must _not _refuse!

"I do command it!" the woodland king grated.

Legolas went white and his breath hitched, "Sire! You would not…if you knew…" Legolas squared his shoulders and finished more firmly, "I refuse. I will not do it, Ada." With that, he turned away.

Thranduil was filled with sudden revulsion for what he perceived as Legolas's weakness. Rage filled him and his vision went red. In two brisk strides he caught up to his son and clamped a hand down on his shoulder, yanking him around to face him. "I will not allow you to refuse me!" Thranduil raged. "If you will not give me what I ask – if you will deny me what is my right, then I must take it from you!"

As his father's words registered, Legolas's eyes widened in horror. But before he could break free of the grip on his shoulder his mind was assaulted with all the formidable power of an elven king.

Thranduil was capable of great subtlety, but he was frustrated – livid! He had no room left in his mind for subtlety. He tore his son's memories away with raw and brutal efficiency.

Legolas cried out as blinding pain drove him to his knees and control of his mind was mercilessly wrenched away. Struggling, he forced out, "Ada, nallon! Imuva úcuio pella hen!" _Father, please! I cannot survive this! _

But Thranduil was far beyond hearing.

XXX

Pippin found his friends in Elrond's hall where the elven lord was about to share lunch with his sons and their guests.

"There you are, Pip!" Merry said. "We were about to send someone to find you!"

"I've never known you to be out of shouting distance at mealtime, my lad!" Gimli laughed.

"Legolas has arrived!" Pippin announced.

Feia sat forward in her chair, but Elessar asked, "Then where is he?"

"I left him in the courtyard with King Thranduil."

Feia's lips parted but no sound emerged. She looked worriedly at Elessar beside her and the king laid a hand over hers reassuringly. But at that moment Lord Elrond suddenly stood, looking dismayed.

Just then Feia was overwhelmed by pain and grief. It hurt so badly and came as such a shock that she cried out. It took a moment for her to realize that she was not alone.

The king's fingers had tightened around her wrist in an involuntary response to the pain he too was experiencing. Meg had pressed her hands to her mouth while Haldir's face had gone tight. The hobbits were doubled over, leaning against one another for support. Gimli had jumped up reaching for an axe that was not there. Elrond and his sons were sprinting from the hall.

Terrified, Feia stood, gathered her skirts around her knees, and ran after them. The king and the others were following, she knew, but she was focused almost solely on what was going on inside her mind.

_She rode Arod in the moonlit darkness, wielding a sword with which she cut a path through a seemingly endless stream of orc. The blade slipped between the breast plate and the shoulder guard of a massive uruk hai, killing it, but just then another orc got hold of her quiver and yanked her off balance. The blade was jammed and she had to let it go. Reaching over her shoulder she unsheathed a knife and used it to cut the strap of her empty quiver so that it fell away. _

Then she dismounted and began to fight with knives while Arod fought at her side, rearing and kicking with his lethal hooves. But there were so many orc! Eventually one of them got lucky and came in under her guard, stabbing her in the side.

She was bent over, holding the wound and panting when Elessar appeared beside her, also breathing heavily and clutching his side. "It is not you! It is not real!" he said, "It is Legolas's memory."

"What?!" Feia gasped, "How?"

"Thranduil!" The king said darkly and helped Feia stumble back into a run.

The memories began to come more quickly then, flashing from one to another in rapid succession. _She was brutally tied and being carried along inside a small crate. It was suffocating, and every time the box was moved in rocking jolts it sent sharp pains through her skull. Something was wrong with her head – an injury, and her side throbbed and burned. _

No, it was Legolas. Legolas's memory. Legolas's suffering.

Thranduil beat him and cursed him with words that flayed his heart even as the whip scored his flesh. "Ai! Naiú elyë, Ada!!!" he cried.

"Ai!" Feia sobbed also. "Oh, Light, _Legolas!"_ She clung to Elessar's supporting arm as they ran together. Behind her Merry asked, "What is happening?" His voice reflected pain and fear.

_The beech tree soothed away his pain and sought to know him by learning his song. And then, as though his song had summoned her, there came a memory of the mysterious lady upon a black horse in the sun, and another song, the lady's song, which wove seamlessly into his as though they were one melody. But then there was fire and more pain and delirium. He was burning…burning… _

"What has Thranduil done?" That was Meg, and by her voice, she was fighting tears.

_Nenuiel bathed and bound his wounds and told him that he must ride for Imladris for he was the last hope of their people. But as Suluin and Galion hoisted him onto Arod's back, he felt the knife wound come open again. The queen entreated him to return with aid. But also, weeping, she bade him end the spell that afflicted their people, even though it cost the life of her lord. _

_Then in despair he cried, "Náim na e metta na ada nin a cuio esse guruthos?" (Am I to kill my father and survive the grief of it)? _

_His mother reached up and touched his hand, saying gently, "An edhelothlva." (For our people). _

"_Nane, imuva hen Imladris mí aur nef lantarnya." (Mother, I shall not see Imladris before I die). _

"_Hiruvalyë lene," (You will find a way). _

_Then he was riding while fever and blood-loss stole away his consciousness and will, until both faded into black nothingness. _

_When awareness returned, his friends were with him, but it was too late for them to do aught but ease his passing. He had failed. Then like a miracle the pain was gone and he woke whole and healed with the lady of his visions in his arms. Feia. Her name was Feia. Somehow, she had saved him. _

Feia and her companions reached the courtyard of Rivendell, where Lord Elrond knelt beside Thranduil speaking urgently to him. But the king of the woodland elves sat entranced upon the cobbled yard oblivious to Elrond's presence; focused inward upon his son's memories and shaking his head in silent negation. In stark contrast to the violence with which he despoiled Legolas's mind, he cradled his son almost tenderly in his arms. Legolas did not move; he barely breathed, and his complexion was grey.

The companions all gathered around, but Elrond forestalled them from interfering. "If we try to separate them now, we could destroy both of their minds. This spillover…Thranduil is not being gentle, I fear."

Elessar fell to his knees on the elven king's other side and leaned close to Legolas's ear. "It is not real, Legolas," he said. "It is memory! It is only memory, my friend!"

He continued to speak softly to Legolas while Elrond resumed urging the woodland king, "Thranduil, you will kill him. You must stop this! _Thranduil!" _

_Legolas was scouting the interior of the Limlight glen. He could hear Lady Meghailin singing. Reaching out, he grasped the branch that obscured his view. Wrong! Something is wrong. Someone else is watching!_ In Thranduil's arms Legolas stirred and moaned. There was a wrenching sensation and pain that seared Feia's mind and then the memory shifted. _Legolas listened attentively as Lady Meghailin related the details of her father's Foreseeing. _

Feia shook her head to clear it. What had just happened? Legolas had been in the glen amongst the rocks above the falls. Meg was singing. The sound had come from below him. He had been pushing back a branch that hindered his view of the pool below. But, wait! Legolas was above the falls! Had he moved that branch he would have seen…

"Elessar, try harder! Part of him knows this is not real. He is protecting me!"

Elessar looked at Feia sharply, but he did not question her, instead his voice took on new urgency, "Legolas, nás ilye caita, mellon nin!" _It is not truth, my friend!_

_They rode ahead of the approaching storm and orc were on their heels. Why would the lady not go? There was fighting and a wild storm and the companions were separated. When they came together, Feia was missing. _

Feia could feel the agony of fear that gripped Legolas at the thought of what might have happened to her. It was so strange experiencing it all again, but through Legolas's eyes.

_Sending the others to find shelter, Legolas went out into the storm alone, finding his lady only just in time to keep her from plummeting to her death. Cradling her before him on Arod, he sought shelter for them, holding her as though she were precious while she dozed in frozen exhaustion. When they were safe in a sheltering cave, both wrapped in blankets, he touched her hand and her cheek. She was still so cold! _

"_My lady, I have to get you warm." Wrong…someone watching… "We must get warm, Feia." Someone watching…Stop! Watching…Not this! _

"Daro! Úhen!" _Stop! Not this!_ Legolas's voice shook with strain. "Uvalyë údú iënin edainriel!" _Your shadow will not touch my lady! _

A white-hot explosion blinded Feia and she groaned. Legolas's body convulsed in his father's grip and Thranduil cried out in pain.

"This should not be possible!" Elrond said, "He has shielded some of his memories…I have never seen…" Then the elven lord frowned. "His strength fails...Thranduil! Thranduil, you must stop!!!"

But the woodland king was still beyond hearing, lost in the unbelievable memories of his son. Thranduil was focused now on the gathering of the elven force that would come to the aid of the Mirkwood elves.

_And then, on the journey to Dol Guldur, came the spell. _

Something had changed in Legolas's mind. The memories came now as waves, each one crashing into him, washing over him while he clung almost reluctantly to his life; each one eroding what little strength and will remained in him to hold on. His body lay still and quiet again, but as he relived the hideous spell and the visions of his slain kinsmen, tears flowed freely from his eyes.

Thranduil began to shake and his head thrashed back and forth. His hands moved to his son's temples, fingers digging into the flesh there, as though by going deeper he might discover that these memories were false.

Legolas's memories revealed deeds that Thranduil could not accept, but he pressed onward. He had to see. Surely he would discover that some evil force had used his voice and likeness to torture Legolas – to kill those elves. It could not have been him!

Feia was weeping openly. She had known Legolas had been in pain, but not how much. She had known that he grieved, but not how deeply. She had not known how closely death had followed him, nor had she anticipated how closely it courted him, still. And he was weakened because of her – because he was protecting her. Light! He needed all of his strength.

Feia prayed.

_At the tenth gong, Legolas collapsed under the sheltering boughs of Southern Mirkwood and fevered dreams claimed his mind. Death wooed him, but even at the extremity of his life, he resisted its embrace. He would use what strength was left to him in the service of his people. _

It was enough! It was too much! Thranduil would seek no further. He could stand no more! Pushing Legolas roughly away from him, the elven king severed the contact of their minds. And then he crawled away a little distance, collapsing with his face buried in his hands.

But when Elessar moved to where Legolas lay shuddering on the cold stones something happened which no one could have guessed. "Ilye…" _All…_ Legolas whispered, his face twisted with agony. Painfully, he hauled himself close enough to Thranduil that he could reach out and clamp his fingers around his father's ankle.

"Uvalyë hens ilye!" _You will see it all!_ The elven prince whispered hoarsely.

"Legolas, mettas lim!" Elrond cried. _Legolas, end this now!_

"Ilye vas!" _All of it!_ Legolas insisted. Forcing his thoughts into his father's protesting mind he moaned and his eyes fluttered and rolled as the act swept him further into the churning tide of grief.

Legolas's memories of the last three soundings of the gong followed one after another. _The eleventh gong brought more pain, toppling him to lie on the cool earth beside the stair beneath the gate at Dol Guldur. At the sound of his father's voice, however, Legolas summoned his last strength. If he failed, he would end to no good purpose. But the arrow he let fly felled his lady, not his father, and then his soul was stripped away_.

"A, Ai!!!" Legolas sobbed. Pain and grief, grief and pain – there was nothing else. His knuckles were white where he gripped his father. Thranduil wept bitter tears, struggling weakly.

_Now, with the pain and grief, there was also terror. When his soul was destroyed, he would not exist except in the memories of those who knew him. Or would it be as though he never was? In the moment of his end would he be forgotten? Would his lady grieve and wonder why? No! He had killed his lady. She waited for him in the halls, but he would never seek her there. _

_Then from his despair, from the very boundary of nothingness, Lady Galadriel reached out and called him back, commanding that he live. _

His grip on his life was disintegrating, but Legolas forced his father to see through his eyes what had become of Eryn Lasgalen. And in the courtyard outside the rooms that had always been his, how grief had almost taken him.

Grief. Wave after wave of it. His strength was gone. His will was spent. With a sigh almost of relief, Legolas let go of his father – let go of _everything…_and sank into it.

"Nooo...no...no…" Feia moaned crawling closer to her husband; she grasped his hand and pressed her tearstained cheek into his palm. "Edhel nin, no! Marsí a útar noro onin!" _Abide here and do not go from me!_

Chapter 38:

**Lady of the Gates **

Pippin waited outside the room to which they had carried Legolas. If I had not left him, could I have prevented this? He wondered. Likely not. What could a hobbit do against an elven king?

Anxiously Pippin watched from his seat on a wooden bench as Merry paced between him and the railing that overlooked the elven vale. Gimli and Haldir stood a few paces apart staring out at the view blindly, each lost in their own thoughts. Elladan and Elrohir had gone to see to King Thranduil's comfort, though Pippin sensed that they were being sent to guard Legolas's unpredictable father.

Inside the room, Lord Elrond, King Elessar and Lady Meghailin sought to use their skills to aid the stricken elven prince. Lady Feia was within as well, for she would not be moved from her husband's side.

He and Merry had not been given to know a number of things about the lady, Pippin reflected. That she was wed to Legolas was not alone amongst them. Pippin had learned of her skill with a blade moments after Legolas's memories had ceased their hold on his mind and his elven friend had gone still.

In tears, the lady had dragged herself to Legolas's side. There the lady – Legolas's lady, had pressed her face into the elf's palm and entreated him in his own tongue. King Elessar and Lady Meghailin had moved to either side of the pair and the elven healer laid her hand on Legolas's pale brow, but Lord Elrond had cautioned her.

"Lady Meghailin, you do him no service by attempting to rouse him, now." Then he sent his sons to bring a litter to carry the unconscious elf to a room where he could be made comfortable.

At the elven patriarch's words, however, Lady Feia had raised her head, blinking away her tears. Her lips parted as though she meant to speak to Lord Elrond, but then her eyes focused beyond him to where Thranduil had managed to push himself up to sit. In one blur of motion, the lady unsheathed and threw the knife she carried in the red sheath at her belt, it sped through the air – spinning end over end until it struck the King of the Woodland Realm.

While the companions looked on in mute shock, the dagger which Thranduil had been preparing to thrust into his own heart tumbled from his nerveless fingers, for the handle of the lady's knife had connected sharply with the back of his hand. The elven king was left staring bleakly at his daughter-in-law. Finally the lady had said softly, "Would you force him to live with that, as well?"

Thranduil's eyes had widened momentarily, and then he had nodded once, his face twisted with self-loathing. "I trust that should he die you will not interfere again, lady."

"If he dies, I will kill you myself," was the lady's terse, dispassionate response. The elven king had only nodded again, as though that was what he had expected, and the prospect did not particularly trouble him.

Then Elladan and Elrohir appeared, gently lifting Legolas onto the litter that they had brought. Feia did not relinquish her hold on her husband's hand, but continued to cling to it, walking beside him as the sons of Elrond carried him to this room. The other companions had followed in a silent procession that felt uncomfortably like a funeral to Pippin.

They laid Legolas on a soft bed and covered him with warm blankets. Immediately, Lady Feia had crawled onto the mattress beside her lord and laid her head upon his chest. The room, characteristically elven, was open to the outside air, but at Elrond's instructions dark heavy fabric was hung all around, covering every opening – even the door.

When Merry asked why, Meg had responded, "If…When Legolas wakes, he will be particularly sensitive to light and sound."

"Because King Thranduil hurt his mind?"

"Yes, because his father hurt his mind. The mind has natural defenses that moderate the perceptions of the eyes and ears to a level that the mind can tolerate. You can think of them as shields, if you like. Thranduil destroyed Legolas's shields. It will take some time for his mind to rebuild them."

"But he's going to be alright isn't he, Lassie?" Gimli had asked.

"As soon as we know, we will tell you, my lord," the elven lady had said, and she had ducked beneath the blanket over the door where Elessar and Elrond already bent over the pale, still form of the woodland elf.

It seemed they had been waiting for hours, though Pippin supposed that time filled with worry passed more slowly than time spent in more pleasant occupation. Finally, the blanket doorway was lifted away and Lady Meghailin emerged with Lord Elrond and King Elessar following.

Merry halted in his tracks, and Gimli stepped away from the railing displaying signs that he both longed for news and feared what it might be. Haldir moved to put a comforting arm around his lady wife who leaned into him wearily.

Lord Elrond bowed and excused himself, saying, "I must go and see to Thranduil."

"What news? Will Legolas be well?" Pippin asked when the elven lord had gone. He had stood as the three emerged, unconsciously moving closer to Merry. When neither the king nor the lady responded at once he said, "Strider?"

Elessar was tiredly scrubbing his hands over his face. "We have done all that we can, my friends," he said. "Whether he will wake depends upon him alone, now. He has endured a very great deal. Let us pray that he will see sufficient cause to return to us rather than seeking peace the other way."

"The other way," Pippin repeated. "What other way?"

Merry put an arm around his friend, speaking softly, "He means by dying, Pippin."

"Dying…" Pippin was having extreme difficulty grasping the concept. "Legolas is immortal."

"Grief can kill an elf," Meg said as kindly as she could manage.

"No!" Pippin said in denial, "he has too much to live for!"

"More than he knows," Meg muttered.

Elessar glanced at her, but he said to Pippin, "I hope that Legolas comes to that same conclusion, my friend."

XXX

Many hours passed and the companions kept an uneasy vigil outside Legolas's door. Elves came at intervals offering refreshment which none of them had much interest in, even the hobbits. But it was a way to gauge the passing of time.

Whenever food was brought, Lady Meghailin carried a plate into the darkened room and the others could hear not the words, but the timbre of her voice as she implored Feia to eat. Always the plate came out again untouched and Meg's face grew more and more distressed.

When the sun sank beneath the surrounding hills, Gimli asked, "Is it a good or a bad sign, this passage of time without any change?"

"It could be either, or neither, Gimli," Elessar answered. "He still lives, but it could simply mean that he has not yet made up his mind." Elessar sighed, looking out at the night-darkened vale as though only now realizing that it was growing late. "My friends, your presence here will not aid Legolas. I will come and wake you if there is need."

Reluctantly, Gimli and the hobbits went to their beds. No amount of coaxing would make Meghailin go, however and Haldir chose to remain with his wife.

In the early morning hours, Gimli returned, unable to rest. He found Meghailin curled on a bench with her head pillowed in Haldir's lap, asleep. Elessar still stared out at the stars moodily, as though he had not moved all night. Without comment, the dwarf joined his friend at the rail, silently rubbing at the place where The Lady Galadriel's gift was pinned.

XXX

Legolas woke gradually, becoming aware of small things first. He was in a bed and there was a weight across his chest that rose and fell with his breathing. He heard a sigh and the soft inhale which followed it. He could feel the passing of sweet breath as it stirred the hairs on his neck. He could smell the spicy-clean scent of his lady's hair.

Slowly the elf opened his eyes. The room was very dark and closed in, but he could see well enough. Feia lay beside him, tucked to his side for the length of her as though she needed to feel him everywhere. Her arm was draped across his chest and her head rested on his shoulder. She slept, but her lashes were wet and her cheeks damp as if she had just now cried herself to sleep.

He longed to wake her with a kiss and tell her that everything would be all right. He wanted to touch her and lose himself in her comforting softness. He wanted to hear her speak his name in love…in surrender.

But that is what the living would do, and he was dead.

Feia must have sensed his wakefulness, for she stirred and her eyes came open. She watched him silently, waiting.

"You should not cry for me, lady," he said softly. "I have been no sort of husband for you."

"If you are dissatisfied with your treatment of me, my lord, you have eternity in which to do better." Her voice was hushed but she could not disguise her joy at his seeming recovery. Legolas winced inwardly at the injustice of what he had done to her – of what he would do to her, now.

"I cannot be your husband, Feia."

She pushed up on her arm and looked down at him, frowning, "What do you mean?" She could barely make out his features in the dark.

"I am dead. I cannot give you what you deserve." He had to use all of his will to keep from touching her and soothing away the pain he was inflicting.

"You are strangely animated for one who is dead, my lord. Why would you put me aside? What are you afraid of?" Feia's voice was calm, but he could feel her shaking.

"The only fear I have left is that I will hurt you further ere I go." Almost involuntarily, his hand moved to stroke her arm.

"And what do you imagine you are doing, now?" Feia said, jerking away from his touch. "Will you try to tell me next that you do not love me, Legolas? You need not bother, for I have seen your thoughts."

"I love you with the love of an elf, my lady. I love you unendingly and I will carry my love for you into the next world. But I yearn for the peace of death. Your love is an anchor that keeps me from that peace. Your presence here binds me when I would be free. Go to some other world, Lady of the Gates. Go and give your heart to another, for you are a widow. I would that I had never burdened you with the weight of my love."

Feia sat up fully, suddenly angry. "You want my permission to die! I will not give it, my lord! I will not give it, and I will not go."

Legolas pushed himself up to sit, as well, "Then you would sentence us both to a living death. How long could you give your love to one whose heart is dead before your heart died also?"

"Your heart is not dead, Legolas! It is grieving! Grief fades with time. Believe me; I have cause to know it!" Feia brushed his cheek with her fingers. "You have called me Orenya; can you not let me be your heart until yours has healed?"

Legolas captured her fingers and gently removed her hand from his face. "I have caused you nothing but grief, lady. I could wish that you had let me die when first you found me. There will be an end to it! I will return to Southern Mirkwood and use what time I have to clear the wood of yrch."

"You will seek death, then, regardless of what I do." As she said the words, Feia knew them for true and she scooted back away from him.

"I do not have to seek death, my lady. Death rides with me."

"This is wrong, my lord. Someday you will see that, and you will look for me. Were I to go through the Gate and leave Middle Earth you would not find me."

"I will not look for you."

"Ah!" Feia gasped on a sob. She struggled not to cry, but he had put another arrow in her after all, this one through her heart.

Feia stood abruptly, and backed away from the bed until her questing hand found the fabric which covered the door. There was one thing she could say that would keep him here – one thing that would prevent him from sending her away. But he had said she was keeping him from finding his peace. That he could consider her love such a burden made her ache. It would tear out her heart to hear him speak of his children thus!

Even so, the words fought to come out and she struggled with them, trembling, so that when she spoke asking, "When will you go?" she was surprised not to hear her voice say, "Our babies will need their father, Legolas."

"In the morning."

"You are not yet well enough!"

"It does not matter!" Legolas's voice had risen and Feia could hear the pain in it, but then he turned away from her and in his usual deep and even voice he said, "I will not see you again, my lady."

Feia could take no more! She spun and flew from the room.

XXX

Feia ducked through the blanket-covered door only to be brought up short by the expectant faces of Elessar, Meg, Haldir and Gimli. They must have heard her voice and Legolas's there at the end. They would take that as a happy sign, but her face was telling a different story, for she could not hide that her heart was shattering.

Knowing that she only had a few words to spare before she was beyond speaking, Feia seized Haldir's arm with one hand and Gimli's shoulder with the other and said, "He goes in search of death! You must not let him find it."

Haldir bowed wordlessly and Gimli only stared at her with his mouth agape.

To Elessar she curtsied, not meeting his eyes and said, "It may be some time before I can fulfill my oath to you, my liege. Forgive me." Then without waiting for a response she fled, shoulders shaking as the tears came.

Meg caught up with her, placing an arm around her shoulders and speaking softly to her. By the time the ladies disappeared around a bend in the corridor the tiny elven lady was all but carrying her sister and the sound of Feia's sorrow drifted back to her friends tearing at their hearts.

Chapter 39:

**In Search of Death **

By dawn, all the arguments had been made and discarded. Legolas would not be deterred from the path that he had chosen, though all of his friends and Lord Elrond had tried. Even Elessar's last effort had not moved him.

"Legolas, at least remain here until you have properly healed." They were walking together from Legolas's room toward the stables. Legolas was dressed for travel and he carried his pack and all of his weapons. But even in the pale predawn light, his eyes were squinted as though against a glare.

"Some wounds cannot heal, Elessar. You know that! I…" The elf's words had trailed away as they strode past the small semi-enclosed garden where the Gate had stood. It was not there. The marble plinth upon which the Gate Cube had rested was empty. "She is gone."

Legolas's voice was flat and hopeless. Elessar's heart ached for him. "How many times have you sent her away? She was tired of fighting you, Legolas."

"It is for the best. She will find someone who can give her what she deserves. She will be happy. I have given her only sorrow."

"She is your wife."

"She is free of me! I will speak no more of it!"

At the stables Legolas found Haldir, Meg, Gimli, Elladan and Elrohir awaiting him. All were prepared to travel, their mounts loaded with their gear.

"It was my intention to go alone," the elven prince said shortly.

"Not likely, laddie," was Gimli's response. There was no argument that would deter his dwarven friend when he had that look upon his face. Legolas sighed and forbore trying.

Elladan said, "You tread on our territory, Prince Legolas. Yrch killing is our business. Elrohir and I were ready to return to it, in any event. We may as well ride along with you."

Legolas nodded, acknowledging the right of Elladan and Elrohir to join him in his quest, and then he turned his attention to Haldir. "What reason have you to accompany me, friend Haldir?"

"I gave my oath to a lady that I would, friend Legolas."

Legolas looked at Meg who quirked her brow and said, "Not I, my lord!"

The elven prince appeared shaken and his lips parted as though there was something of import he wanted to say. Instead he frowned slightly and said instead, "And what of you, my lady? Surely you are not interested in yrch killing, and I have my doubts that you would offer your oath on my behalf."

"I ride with my husband, Prince Legolas, for we would not be parted," Meg answered coolly. "By enlisting Haldir, my sister ensured that you would have a healer with you. If you must seek out ways to endanger the people who care for you, I shall be on hand to heal them."

Legolas bowed to her, hand to heart without speaking, for there was nothing that he could say. He was about to help Gimli mount Arod when Lord Elrond appeared.

The elven patriarch had told Legolas in no uncertain terms what he thought of this venture and had made his farewells when his opinion fell on deaf ears. He had also breakfasted early with his sons in parting, so the companions were surprised to see him.

They were even more surprised when he walked straight up to Gimli and bowed to him deeply. "My Lord Gimli, there is something I have kept from you which I must now share."

"What is it, my Lord Elrond?" Gimli asked, mystified.

"I have known what magic was used to ensorcel King Thranduil since we were at Dol Calenlor, but I have said nothing, for it troubled me deeply. Our Enemy set an object in the tower of the keep to ensnare the woodland king. Perhaps he hoped the item would be found during his bid for power. Had it been, there might have been elves in the armies of Mordor."

"What are you saying, my lord?" Legolas asked.

"I am saying that the Enemy targeted your father's weakness. He created a magic item that Thranduil could not fail to covet. I do not think your father yet realizes what the three gems in the torque truly were, but I will tell you that they were bait for a trap set for Thranduil alone bound up with spells which played upon his fears, twisted his will, and stole away the will of those who serve him. Your arrow released them from the binding which held them, Legolas."

Elrond held out his hand and upon his palm were three rings set with large gems. Three of the seven rings of power that had been gifted to the Dwarven lords.

"I fear what may happen by reintroducing these rings at this time, but the choice of their fate is not mine to make. I apologize, Gimli Lockbearer. I should have given them into your keeping long since. Will you carry them to King Dain at Erebor?"

"Destroy them," Gimli said simply.

"I beg your pardon?" Elrond asked.

"Are you capable of destroying them by your arts, Lord Elrond?"

"I am."

"Then do it." The dwarf said. "Dain would not thank me for carrying them to Erebor. Sauron tried to gain our allegiance by offering them back to us. Ironfoot made his wishes known then. If a dwarf comes into possession of any of the lost rings, he is to destroy it. No good ever came of them, my lord."

Elrond could not conceal his relief; bowing again to Gimli, "I bow to the wisdom of the king under the mountain," he said. "The rings will be destroyed."

Just then the hobbits appeared to make their farewells to the departing companions. Any thoughts they might have had of accompanying Legolas had been thoroughly squashed earlier when Elessar visited their room and had flatly forbidden it.

The hobbits could not fail to notice the distance that Legolas kept between himself and all of his friends, but they knew the elven prince as well as anyone could, and they recognized the depth of grief his coolness was meant to disguise. Had they not felt for themselves the pain that the elf had endured?

Merry only clasped Legolas's hand, gazing up at him with a worried frown, but Pippin could not refrain from advising, "Sam's Old Gaffer used to say, 'the day of the funeral is no time to sell the hole.' I think I know what he meant by that, now. If you let grief guide your choices, you could find yourself homeless." The hobbit ducked his head, embarrassed, "Or so I interpret it, anyhow."

Then Elessar said, "A person could do worse than Hamfast Gamgee as a role model." He held Legolas's eye as long as the elf would maintain the contact, but soon enough the prince looked away, his expression closed.

As the sun crested the rim of the vale, Legolas and his companions rode out of the gates of Rivendell.

XXX

Meghailin Celduinsén McKiernan, Second of Alderaan, Healer, agent of The Powers That Be, and erstwhile adventurer had become a cook and a maid for four elves and a dwarf. While three or four at a time, her companions ventured forth in order to slay yrch, it fell largely upon her to feed them, tidy up after them, and heal their injuries – though fortunately those had been minor and few.

It could be worse, Meg thought. If one must spend months in a camp, the Limlight Glen camp was more comfortable than most. It took a couple of days to reach the Mirkwood from the sheltered glen, but all were in agreement that the benefits far outweighed the disadvantages. And she was never alone. Haldir, Gimli, and the sons of Elrond took it in turn to keep her company. Haldir's turn came most frequently. Legolas she rarely saw, for the elven prince drove himself hard.

At intervals, rangers would appear bringing news and supplies. Meg came to look forward to these visits, for the rangers were good folk who spent the greater portion of their time alone. They were usually somewhat laconic to begin, but winsome Meg put them at their ease and one and all they proved to enjoy the opportunity to visit. The Rangers were fond of stories, often very old stories, and Meg made an appreciative audience.

It came as no surprise to Meg that the rangers all seemed privy to their presence in the glen as well as knowing the nature of their mission there. The rangers were wholly Elessar's, by bonds of kinship and custom as well as the loyalty that respect engenders. She would also have been unsurprised to learn that reports of these meetings were relayed swiftly to Gondor, for the king was anxious for news of his friends.

Once, a group of enterprising dwarves located the camp and stayed for three nights. There were stories and music and a never ending supply of beer and food, causing Meg to suspect that these dwarves possessed some magic.

While the dwarves visited, Haldir managed to slip away with one of them for a private conversation. A few weeks later, a trio of dwarves headed toward Meduseld made a delivery. Haldir had commissioned two matching emerald beads for his lady's queues connate signifying their marriage. His lady was very pleased!

Meg missed her sister dreadfully and worried that she was not there to monitor Feia's growing babies. She worried for Legolas who never stayed at the camp longer than absolutely necessary. Weeks would go by and she would not see him. When she did, he never smiled and he spoke very little.

For the most part, however, as the weeks and months passed, Meg was reasonably satisfied with her lot.

XXX

For Legolas's part, he was alive. Time passed and he still lived. And he discovered that his lady had been correct, grief did fade with time; some grief did. But even though he was not as susceptible as he once was to bouts of debilitating sorrow, still he was walled off from all emotion. He felt separated from his friends and he could not seem to bridge the chasm he had created between them. Everything he did felt the same. He killed yrch as dispassionately as he ate, or rode, or hunted, or rested. It was all just things that needed doing.

The companions had great success killing yrch. There were few bands left numbering more than five in the Mirkwood, and the companions had to range farther and farther to find them. Legolas knew that the people of the brown lands and those who dwelled within the forest were safer because of what they had done, but even that thought did not lighten his heart.

They had been at it for well over seven months. The winter had been hard, but Legolas scarcely noticed. It was full spring now, and the world had awakened from her slumber. The trees wore the new green of young leaves and even Legolas occasionally felt his blood stirring tentatively, yearning toward something which he had thought was beyond him; yearning toward life.

At one such time, Legolas ranged on foot through the Mirkwood. Elladan was within hailing distance ahead and to his left while Haldir was a flicker of motion in the trees behind him and to his right. A tree captured the elven prince's attention; a beech tree much like the one that had sacrificed her life for him what seemed now an age past. Approaching, he respectfully laid his palms flat against the smooth bark and allowed a part of his mind to drift.

The tree welcomed the touch of his mind. The beech was sturdy and vital, its sap flowing strongly and its canopy of leaves healthy and new. It whispered its secrets to the elf, gleaned through its roots from the earth and through its branches from the wind. Legolas heard music again, as in his mind he began to see visions of people from near and far. He heard Haldir's song and Elladin's; his mind touched the melodies of Gimli, Elrohir and Meg at the camp. The King of Gondor was holding his son and their melody's intertwined in love and joy. The young prince looked very like his mother.

Then unexpectedly there was terrible pain and fear and Legolas heard his name cried in a need so profound that he called out. With that, his contact with the tree was severed.

"Legolas?" Haldir said softly behind him. Legolas was leaning most of his weight against the tree and gasping for air. "What is it?" the Lórien elf asked. It had been some time since Legolas had been susceptible to spells like this. If they were recurring, it was cause for alarm.

"Naught," Legolas said, shaking his head to clear it. "My imagination got the better of me and I heard what is impossible." The woodland elf met his friend's anxious gaze, "Náim mae, Haldir." _I am well._ "I was speaking to the tree. In my inexperience I must have amplified my own fears somehow."

"What did you hear?"

"My lady was in need of me. She was in pain and she called for me," Legolas said in a bleak voice. "But it could not be so! The wind could not carry her voice to me from another world."

Haldir tilted his head consideringly. He had found it very difficult to believe that Lady Feia would leave Middle Earth despite the absence of the Gate – and despite what Legolas thought. Haldir wondered if the lady might indeed have touched the same breeze that now stirred the branches above them.

XXX

It was three days later when tragedy nearly struck the companions.

Legolas and Gimli rode the perimeter of Mirkwood seeking signs of yrch. It was almost nightfall and Legolas was also scouting a likely place for them to camp. He dismounted and left Gimli to follow a game trail a little way into the wood. When he heard the yrch it was only just in time to free his bow and fire at the approaching creatures. Soon he was engaged at close quarters with several yrch, and more were coming.

It had been so long since they had encountered a band of any size; perhaps they had become complacent. Or perhaps they simply ran afoul of the odds; it was probable, given what they were doing, that one of them would get hurt eventually.

Gimli came crashing into the fray swinging his axes and felling yrch with every blow. The dwarf and the elf fought back to back as they so often had, each trusting the other implicitly, each anticipating the other's every move.

Legolas heard the crossbow bolt when it was fired, and turned to knock it from its flight with his sword, but one of the creatures was blocking him and the cruel point hit Gimli full in the chest. The dwarf stared numbly at the thumb thick shaft protruding from his leather jerkin as though he was trying to understand what it meant, and then he thumped to his knees without uttering a sound.

Legolas exclaimed as though it was he who had been struck and he fought like ten elves, for the yrch were now standing between him and his friend's life. It took precious minutes to defeat them all, and then he dropped to the earth beside the wounded dwarf, assessing the wound anxiously. Gimli held on to consciousness, but his brow was beaded with sweat and his breath came hard.

"Take the bloody thing out, laddie!" he huffed after a moment. "It feels like a dirty great tree!"

"Nay! I may not, my friend," Legolas answered. "I fear it has pierced your lung. The arrow is keeping you alive." The elf whistled for Arod and in a moment the horse was there. "You need Lady Meghailin, Gimli."

"The lady is two days away!"

"Then you had better save your strength." It took some doing to get Gimli onto the horse's back, and when he was mounted, he was barely conscious.

Legolas mounted behind him and spoke to Arod. The horse cleared the trees and stretched into a cantor. They could not keep up that pace forever, but Arod was a stouthearted animal and Legolas knew the horse's limits.

It was fourteen hours later, at that very limit, that they reached the hidden glen. Gimli was delirious from fever and weak coughs had bloodied the dwarf's lips. Meg called out in alarm at the sight of them. Haldir sprinted to Arod's side and helped Legolas ease the dwarf to the ground. Elladan took charge of the exhausted horse.

Meghailin began issuing orders like a battle commander and soon the dwarf was laid out beside the fire, which had been built up. Water was heating in a pot over the flames. Haldir and Legolas cut away the jerkin that had behaved better than a bandage, holding the arrow as still as possible and slowing the flow of blood from the wound.

"I am going to put you into a deep sleep, Gimli," Meg announced, though whether the dwarf understood her words was open to debate. Laying a hand that glowed faintly blue upon his brow, the healer placed her patient into a dreamless slumber.

Fixing her gaze on Legolas, the elven lady said, "Timing will be crucial when the bolt is removed. If you are too weary my lord, Haldir or Elrohir should do it."

But she had guessed rightly, for Legolas would not cede the responsibility to anyone else. "I will remove it, my lady," he said.

Meg only nodded. Laying a hand near to the wound, she closed her eyes and concentrated. "Take hold of the shaft, Prince Legolas. It has turned. You will need to turn it back again so it is oriented in the same way as the wound." She indicated the direction the elf would need to rotate the shaft. "I will tell you when to stop."

"Very well," Legolas agreed, and the lady said, "Go!"

Firmly and smoothly, Legolas turned the shaft stopping when the lady hissed, "Now! Pull it out quickly, Legolas!"

The arrow came free, slick with his friend's life, and the wound pumped red. Even in his sleep, Gimli began to choke and a stream of blood spilled from his mouth. "My, lady!" Legolas exclaimed.

But Meg was deep in healing trance, her hands already pressed over the awful wound. It was several minutes before she raised her head. "The wound is healed, but we will have to clear his lungs of all that blood, else he may grow ill from the congestion. He will not be completely out of danger for several days. I expect you all to aid me in keeping our friend in check, for I fear he shall grow cross with me in a day or two."

Legolas made an odd sound and Meg turned to stare at him. He had been holding the air in his lungs and his first full breath had stuttered. His eyes were very wide in long postponed shock. _Very_ long postponed, Meg suspected. Quite suddenly he surged to his feet and strode off toward the pool.

Haldir smiled and kissed Meg's cheek. "I believe we shall soon be leaving here, my lady," he said cryptically. Then he rose and followed Legolas into the trees.

Chapter 40:

**Amongst the Living **

Haldir found the elven prince seated beside the pool with his legs drawn up before him. His mood was intense and when he looked up, in his eyes the Lórien elf could see profound confusion as well as regret. Whether Legolas was aware that his eyes had been dead for the past months and that these were the first expressions of emotion that he had exhibited in all of that time, Haldir could only guess.

"Haldir, what am I doing?" he asked. "What have I done?"

"Ah, Im hen elyë, Legolas," _Ah, there you are, Legolas,_ Haldir said pointedly. "Imtar anann anlyë túlo di e demorna, mellon nin." _It has been long since I have seen you, my friend. _

Legolas's eyes now registered chagrin. Then he answered his own question. "I have been seeking death. My lady was right. She was right about a great many things, but I did not heed her! And now I have nearly killed Gimli! I have endangered all of you."

"You are not responsible for us. We are here of our own choice, for our own reasons." Then Haldir smiled, "And Gimli just may consider it worth a bolt in the chest to see you back amongst the living."

Legolas frowned, "I have no business amongst the living, Haldir, and yet I am alive." Glancing at his friend he decided that he would speak candidly, "I thought that I could allow the grief to take me, but something in me will not go! I long for an end to this life; or I did. I do not even know anymore what I want. I only know that I drove my lady away and now I must face the prospect of eternity without her. I am either weak, or I am a fool."

"You are not weak, Legolas; quite the opposite! You are strong to the point of obstinacy."

"I note you are willing to allow that I am a fool."

"You are only a fool for so long as you continue to behave foolishly after you have learnt better."

Legolas was silent for several moments while he considered this. Then he declared, "As soon as Gimli has recovered enough that he may travel, I think I shall suggest that we go to Gondor and visit the new prince. The babe will surely stir what is left of hope in me.

I cannot undo what I have done, Haldir. I cannot undo Gimli's injury and I cannot call my lady back to me from afar."

"I do not believe your lady is beyond your call, my friend."

"You are wrong, then," the elven prince insisted, "for she told me, 'Were I to go through the Gate and leave Middle Earth you would not find me.' And I surely will not."

"It is interesting the way that she phrased that, if those were her words. Do you not think so?"

"I do not understand."

"If the lady planned to leave Middle Earth, would she not have said instead, 'When I go through the Gate,' rather than, 'Were I to go through the Gate?'"

"Are you suggesting that she did not leave? The Gate is gone, Haldir. I saw that it was missing with my own eyes!"

"It would not be the first Gate the lady had closed from this side, Legolas."

Legolas stood abruptly and spun to look at Haldir squarely. "If she did not take the Gate, then where would she go?"

"I do not know, my friend. I do not know for certain that she did not take the Gate, but I would be surprised to discover that she had." Then Haldir folded his arms and smiled, "And from what I know of the bond between your lady and mine, I would be astonished if she had, for my wife would never have allowed her to go."

Legolas's heart first surged with hope and then sank in despair so rapidly that he had to shake his head to keep up with it. "She would not have me back again after all that I have put her through."

"I would say that is a decision for the lady to make. If you truly want her to have you back, would it not be worth the risk of asking her?"

Legolas turned and stared out over the pool. His heart was hammering in his chest; the same heart that he had thought dead. After a moment he turned again toward Haldir, "An e fimwain lastoren Imuva anna andave o harma." _For the smallest chance I would give any treasure. _"Yanen uva utúvien iënin edainriel?" _But how will I find her?" _

"You might begin by asking me where she is, my lord," Meg said. She strode from the trees, striking a pose with her arms crossed under her breasts. Her expression somehow managed to be both hesitant and pleased.

XXX

Meg guided her weeping sister toward her room; the room Feia had shared with Legolas when last they had stayed in Rivendell. The elven healer was sure that, until this day, her sister had happily anticipated her husband's return when they would share that room again.

Meg felt a tremendous amount of compassion for Legolas. His father had tortured first his body and heart, then his soul, and now his mind. In her heart, she knew that Legolas was doing the best that he could under a dreadful weight of grief. That did not stop the elven lady from wanting to scream at him – naming him a knave and every variety of fool.

He had not heeded the warning of her father's Foreseeing and had let go of his faith. Now he was sending his greatest strength – his love, away from him when he most needed it.

Feia looked terrible. After hours of stress and no food, her own grief had sapped what was left of her strength. Meg worried for her and for her children. The children whom Feia had clearly resolved to keep secret from Legolas!

As Meg murmured comfortingly to her friend, her thoughts churned. Now what? Where now will we go? Meg could not leave Haldir!

Just then, they passed the little garden where the Gate stood glimmering in the predawn darkness. Feia paused and her inconsolable weeping suddenly ceased. Meg watched in amazement as her sister's features arranged themselves in an expression of firm resolve. Then stepping purposefully from the comforting circle of her elven friend's arms, Feia approached the Gate.

"Sister!" Meg said sternly, "Do nothing in haste that cannot be undone!"

Feia looked at Meg and smiled a grim smile that looked all the more forbidding on her tearstained cheeks. "Not even this?" she asked, and seizing the Gate cube from its marble resting-place, she flung it with all her strength through the open Gate. The light flared more brilliantly for a moment and then it disappeared leaving Meg blinking.

"I will not lose my faith, Meggie. And I will be on Middle Earth when Legolas finds his!" Feia linked her arm with Meg's and, though she was still trembling, she turned them deliberately back toward her room. "I must leave at once. He cannot find me in Rivendell when morning comes. I could not bear to go through this again!"

"But Feia! You have committed my husband to Legolas's harsh quest. How can I choose between you?"

"You will not!" Feia responded. "You will stay with your husband where you belong! Legolas will not separate you two as well!"

"And Legolas will have a healer in his party to help see that he does not succeed in ending his life!" Meg said, realizing she had been maneuvered and not at all happy about it. "I should be with you and your babies, and so should Legolas. This is madness!" Meg broke away from her sister, turning around abruptly, "I will tell him that he is to be a father as you should have done. Surely that will keep him here!"

"Nay, Meg!" Feia laid a restraining hand on her friend's shoulder. "I will not have our children be two more anchors denying him the freedom to seek peace in death!"

"Is that what he told you? He would name your marriage an encumbrance?" Meg was furious, "Let me go! I do not care what he has been through; he mustn't be allowed to speak to you thus!"

"He is not to blame in this Meghailin!" Feia said giving her sister a slight shake. "When he begins to heal, his own conscience will torment him enough without your adding to his pain."

"You have great faith in him," Meg's voice indicated she was unsure that faith was well placed.

"I do," and in Feia's voice there was no doubt.

Meg sighed resignedly, "Where will you go?"

"Soon the hobbits will return to their home. I will await them along the road. In The Shire I will abide until my husband heals and my babies come. Do not tell Legolas where I shelter until he asks you, for he will not ask until he is ready to know."

"And if he does not ask before the babes are born?"

Feia shook her head, "Hold my secret, Meggie. I will not keep his children from him. If I am delivered of them before he has decided in favor of life, I shall send for him when I am ready. It will be a hard thing, accepting that he would not come for me alone, but will surely come for his son and daughter."

"I understand," Meg said by way of a promise.

In less than an hour, just before the dawn, Feia rode out of the gates of Rivendell. Yáviëlosse was burdened with her mistress and with the little that the woman possessed plus a generous pouch of food from the elven larder. Her own pack already strapped to Linnêl's back in readiness for her return to Mirkwood with Legolas, Meghailin hugged her sister and waved her away, her brow creased in concern.

XXX

When a party on horseback crested a low rise less than a mile from where she rode, Nenuiel ducked beneath the cover of the trees in order to observe them. Her eyes had no trouble identifying her son amongst the travelers with his dwarven friend mounted behind him upon Arod. Also, she identified Haldir of Lórien, the elven healer whom he had wed, and the sons of Elrond. Where were they going? Where was Legolas's lady?

Nenuiel swallowed the dread that she could not help feeling whenever she thought of her son and all that he had endured. He could be as unyieldingly stubborn as his father. If he persisted in his pattern of pushing his grief away until it grew so great and so powerful that it swallowed him whole, her son would die. If only he would allow himself to feel his grief, to experience it fully, and to share it, then he might yet heal.

But that was not Legolas's way. It was not Thranduil's way. It was not the elven way, for elves dwelt upon old grief lamenting the past. They did not allow the experiences of the present to intrude upon their age-old sorrow. And so Nenuiel vacillated between hope and doubt, carrying her fear like a snarling beast with its claws dug deeply into her heart so that she could neither release it nor defeat it.

The elven queen had not gone to Eryn Lasgalen; instead she had left Galion in charge of the reclamation of their home. Nenuiel knew where she was most needed and where she needed most to be. Thranduil was her husband. Together, Thranduil and Legolas were her heart. She could not abandon either.

When she reached the ford of the Bruinin however, she did not cross, for the woodland queen's inner knowing guided her beyond that place. She was drawn nearly two miles eastward along the path that had long ago been a road between Rivendell and the great watchtower of Amon Súl. In a clearing on a knoll, which afforded a view of that path, she found Lady Serafé's camp.

The lady did not see Nenuiel approach, for she slept. Feia was beside her fire, huddled in her cloak, her face haggard and streaked with the tracks of many tears. Sensing that her daughter-in-law and the babes she carried were greatly in need of the rest, Nenuiel did not disturb her. Instead she laid a blanket over the sleeping woman and silently prepared a nourishing, thick soup from the stores she had brought and those that she found in the camp. Allowing it to simmer over the fire, the queen sat down to wait.

XXX

The rich aroma of hot food was the first thing Feia became aware of. The second thing was hunger, for she felt she could eat again for the first time in a full day. It took some time for her to remember where she was and why.

It was difficult coping with the fresh sorrow, but Feia had cried enough. Only when she had reached the decision that she would wallow no longer in her pain did she recall that the smell of food should be surprising. Opening her eyes, Feia pushed herself up to sit. As she did, she saw that a bowl of soup, a hunk of toasted bread with cheese and a cup of tea awaited her upon a blanket spread on the ground. Across the blanket from her sat Legolas's mother for all the world as though she had been there for hours. Perhaps she had been, for Feia certainly had not prepared this excellent lunch in her sleep.

Feia made as though to rise, exclaiming, "Your majesty!" But Nenuiel waved her back down.

"Eat girl," the elven queen said peremptorily. "You look a fright and you have the children to think of."

"Yes, my lady," Feia said, adding, "Thank you for preparing the meal. I meant to eat as soon as I found a good campsite, but I was suddenly so tired!" With that she dug into the soup with more enthusiasm than she would have believed herself capable.

Nenuiel allowed the woman to eat until she had finished her soup and was sipping at her tea, then the elf said, "My son has sent you away from him."

"Yes."

With a few pointed questions, Nenuiel had the whole story from Feia. Standing, the queen paced to the other side of the camp, looking out over the path below.

Rising, Feia joined her. "Have you come to aid Thranduil in his recovery, my lady?" she asked.

"A wife should be with her husband."

"I know."

Nenuiel turned to her daughter-in-law. The woman sounded miserable. "You could hardly have followed along after him unasked and unwanted. You have some pride in you! That is all to the good, to my way of thinking!

As for me, I love Thranduil. He has never been perfect and I have certainly not always agreed with him, but I cannot resist him. Whatever spell came over him so that he brought harm to our people and to our son; that was not my husband. I will show him by my presence that I believe that, and pray that he shall heal the quicker for it.

Now, I think you have been awaiting a pair of hobbits. I can hear them approaching. We will part, my daughter." With that Nenuiel embraced Feia, whistled for her mount and was soon riding away toward Rivendell.

XXX

Merry and Pippin were pleased to make good their invitation to the lady and show her the hospitality of the Shire. They were solicitous of Feia, treating her as though she was as fragile as a flower. Feia did not mind as she usually might. Perhaps she did not because, for the moment, fragile was how she felt.

When they reached the Shire, the hobbits put her up comfortably at Crickhollow where Frodo had briefly sheltered before the War of the Ring. The house had originally belonged to the Brandybucks and Frodo had ceded it back to Merry after their return from their legendary adventure. Merry kept the place up as a guesthouse and he kept it up well. Feia found a full larder, soft clean linens and every comfort she could wish for.

The hobbits and the lady tramped together in the outskirts of the Old Forest, through Buckland and Tookland, and for miles along the Brandywine. Merry and Pippin introduced Feia to their friend Fredegar Bolger and they all supped together at the table of Farmer Maggot and his wife. Feia felt she had truly entered into the stories that had entranced her in her youth.

As the weeks passed, however, Feia began to show obvious signs of her condition. Her hosts politely said nothing, but they began to restrict their trampings closer and closer to Crickhollow.

At last Feia said, "My friends, I am with child; I am not ill! The exercise is good for me and my babies."

At which the hobbits felt free to express their excitement that Legolas would be a father. They exclaimed over the fact that there would be two. Then they offered to go to Mirkwood and find her husband for her.

Feia hugged them both; they had become so dear to her! But she said, "If Legolas does not arrive before the babes do, then I will ask you to carry a letter – but only so far as Bree! You can give it into the keeping of a ranger. Surely the Dunedain will be able to find him if there is need!"

Then she said, "I would like to meet Sam and Rosie and their children before I am too far along to travel. Perhaps there is somewhere in Hobbiton that I may stay, for I will want to be close to a midwife when my time comes."

And that is how Feia became known to all the hobbits for miles in every direction as, "The lady what lives on The Hill with the Gamgees up in Hobbiton."

Chapter 41:

**Bag End **

Gimli was adamant, "I won't have you waiting on me, laddie! What if the rumor passed to you by that tree was a true thing?! If the lassie has need of you, I couldn't live with myself keeping you from her!"

The dwarf could not conceal his joy at the sight of his elven friend so anxious to be away to his lady's side. The months since Legolas had ridden out from Minas Tirith had been a torment; watching the lad suffer so terribly and then shut himself off from all who cared for him. Had he known an orcish arrow sticking out of him was all that it would take to bring the elf back to life, he would have jumped in front of one long since!

"I cannot go yet in any event," Legolas said. "Arod ran his heart out for us, Gimli! It will be a few days before he is ready to bear the burden of a rider again."

Legolas and Haldir crouched beside the hot spring where Gimli was soaking up to his bearded chin in warm water. After keeping him in a deep sleep, propped up on a blanket-covered pack until this morning, Lady Meghailin had scattered aromatic herbs onto the steaming pool and ordered him in. The herbs were meant to help the dwarf clear his lungs.

"Take Hithui, Legolas," the Lórien elf offered. "We will follow you to the Shire when both Gimli and Arod are ready to travel."

The elven prince looked undecided, but Gimli said, "By all that's good and true, laddie, the lass has waited for you long enough!"

With that Legolas stood, grinned, and ran.

XXX

Taking the Southern route and bypassing Rivendell and Bree, Legolas traveled swiftly on the wings of his fragile hope. With only a brief stop when he happened upon a dwarven merchant upon the road, Legolas found himself crossing the Baranduin at Stonebows in no time.

As Hithui clip-clopped over the Brandywine Bridge, a hobbit rose from his seat outside the little guard shack to meet him. The sight of an elf greatly interested but did not overly concern the border guard, and so he did not bother to put aside his pipe, but carried it with him to the foot of the bridge. Elves might be rare visitors to the Shire even in these times, but they had never brought trouble with them.

"Welcome to the Shire, Master Elf. I be Hugo Boffin," the hobbit said politely. "Might I be askin' yer name and yer business?"

"I am Legolas of the Mirkwood, Master Boffin," Legolas responded. "I am here to visit with my friends, Meriodoc Brandybuck, Peregrin Took, and Samwise Gamgee."

Hugo bowed in acknowledgement, for not a hobbit remained in all of the Shire who had not heard the tales which Merry, Pippin, and Sam had brought back with them after the war; not that Hugo could say he rightly believed all of them. The elven prince, Legolas, figured in them prominently.

"I fear Master Merry and Master Pippin haven't yet returned from Bree, Prince Legolas," the little guard said. "They went on an errand for the lady what's living up on The Hill with the Gamgees off in Hobbiton, so they said."

_The lady living with the Gamgees!_ "Thank you Master Boffin. I will go on to Hobbiton, then. If Merry and Pippin return this way, please tell them that they will find me there."

"I will, Sir! A pleasant day to you!" Hugo bowed again as Legolas spoke to Hithui, heading off at a brisk trot toward Hobbiton.

XXX

It was midafternoon of the next day when Legolas led Hithui into the stable at the Green Dragon. Ned Cotton pointed out a stall for the animal, and when Legolas approached it, a little mare whickered in greeting and poked her nose out over the door of the stall beside it.

"Mae govannen, Yáviëlosse!" _Well met, Yáviëlosse!_ Legolas said stroking the animal's nose gently. "Im eglerio na hen o le vardanya a estelpant rohrya." _I rejoice at the sight of thee, excellent and faithful horse. _

"She's a pretty one, she is," Ned commented. "She misses her mistress, though, what with the lady's indisposition and all. I take her out and let her run around the paddock a bit each day, but it ain't the same."

"The lady is ill?" Legolas felt his chest tighten.

With the grim eagerness with which the other races liked to share hard news, Ned leaned in close to the elf. "Nearly died, she did. My sister didna hardly sleep for close on six full days carin' for her! But our Rosie, she knows a thing or two about… Where ya goin'?"

But Legolas was running full-out toward Bag End.

XXX

As fascinating as she found it, Feia simply could not focus on the book she was reading. Yawning and stretching stiffly, she rearranged herself on her blanket beneath the sheltering boughs of the Mallorn.

This wonderful tree with its leafy branches reaching high and also trailing to the ground; and with its accommodating roots; was the very tree planted by Sam on the site where the Party Tree had once stood. This was Galadriel's gift to Sam and he had shared it with all the Shire. And now the New Party Tree was Feia's haven when Rosie chased her outside for some fresh air each day while the little ones were napping.

An inner-glowing warmth filled her heart at the thought of her precious babies. But her joy in them led inevitably to her loneliness for Legolas. Soon. He would come soon, for by now the hobbits had surely passed her letter to a ranger.

Feia knew that he lived. Did he not, Meg would have come to her long since. And somehow, had he fallen, she was sure something important within her would have ceased in the moment of his passing and she would know it. No! It had been many months; surely by now he must be healing.

Refocusing her attention on the book with a weary sigh, Feia drew up her legs with the volume open upon them and leaned into the inviting curve of the tree's roots. This was The Red Book of Westmarch, although she supposed it was not yet known by that epithet. Inside the red leather binding was the story she had loved for nearly all of her life written in Bilbo and Frodo's own hands. If only she would recover enough so that she did not feel so tired! She wanted to give this treasure the attention that it deserved.

But despite her best intentions, her eyes drifted shut and the dream came again. It was always the same, and it felt so real that it often made waking very difficult. This time it was so real that she could still feel the breeze upon her cheek and smell the springtime smells of the Shire.

Legolas came striding through the branches of the Mallorn tree with the dappled sunlight dancing upon his beautiful face. He looked at her with such intensity that her stomach fluttered despite the fact that this was only a dream. It was as though he were cataloguing every part of her and expecting to find something missing.

Finally satisfied, the elf moved closer and dropped to his knees beside her. He took the book from her loosened grasp and set it aside upon the blanket, and then he took her hand in his two. His fingers were warm and just a little rough.

"I do not deserve your forgiveness, lady," he said looking not at her but at their joined hands, then lifting his eyes he added, "but I need it!"

He had spoken! He had never spoken in the dream before! He had always simply drawn her with him to the soft grass and claimed her again as his.

"Nályë úlôr na ilye!" _You are not a dream at all!_

"Úna ilye, edainriel," _Nay, lady._

XXX

Legolas's feet carried him toward his goal while his mind ranged ahead, dreading what he might find. But his inner sense must still be working for as he came near to the open area centered by the Mallorn tree, he automatically changed direction long before he consciously sensed his lady's presence there.

And she _was _there; tucked against the tree's great roots as though they had grown up around her while she slept. Her eyes were closed and her lashes lay dark and heavy on her pale cheeks. She was dressed in hobbit fashion, he noted, with a white blouse, a black vest embroidered with red roses and green leaves, and a dark-orange skirt banded with black and more red roses at the hem. A scarf of red pulled back her hair.

She was too pale, but she seemed whole, and her breathing was peaceful and even. When her eyes came open she stared at him with her gaze still vague from sleep. When he approached her, she made no move, and did not speak. It was as though she were not at all surprised to see him.

But when he asked her the question that burned in him, her eyes flew open wide and fully alert. And when she spoke he realized that she had believed herself to be dreaming him here! His heart leapt with hope.

Stroking her fingers with his thumb, he asked again, "I have hurt you very badly. Will you forgive me, my lady?"

Feia tilted her head, blinking at him, "I cannot forgive you, Legolas."

"Ah!" Legolas sat back from her slightly, letting his hands slide slowly away from hers. He had been right. She would not have him.

"I cannot forgive you because I never blamed you."

It was Legolas's turn now to blink at the lady, for he could hardly credit what he was hearing. At sight of his bewildered expression, Feia smiled a gentle smile. "You came here for forgiveness. Now that you know you do not need it, what will you do? Will you be my husband, Edhel nin, or will you tell me again why you cannot be?"

Legolas found that he was quite unable to speak. Was she truly offering to allow him back into her life? She was watching him, waiting for his response, but he did not trust his voice. Instead, reaching into his belt pouch, he retrieved two beads made from a pale green stone that was flecked with silver and azure. The dwarf he had purchased them from had been kind enough to unpack his tools and make beads of the polished stones - beads for a lady to wear in her hair.

Still mute, he reached out and gently unfolded her fingers, placing the beads upon her open palm.

Feia touched them tentatively with her fingertips as though unsure she should trust her eyes. Then she threw her arms about his neck, clinging to him while happy tears streamed down her cheeks. Legolas wrapped his arms around her, rocking gently and reveling in the miracle of her as he soothed, "Dîn, Orenya, dîn. Náim sí. Imuva únoro o enlyë." _Hush, my heart, hush. I am here. I will not leave you again. _

His words only made her cry the harder, but at length she collected herself and leaned away from him smiling and wiping at her eyes. "Come, my lord, there are those at Bag End who are anxious to meet you!"

Legolas looked at her questioningly, "My lady! I am well acquainted with Sam and Rosie and their children."

Feia actually giggled as though he had made a joke, but when he persisted in his questioning stare, she frowned, "You did not receive my letter!"

"You sent for me, lady!?"

"Yes," a slow smile spread across her face, dimpling her cheeks. "Yes I did, but you came for me!" Feia leaned forward and kissed his cheek, and then his eyes, whispering, "Nalyë túlan nin!" _You came for me! _

"Of course," he brushed his fingers over her tear-dampened cheek. "I came for you just as you knew I would!" Legolas had just realized the truth of that. His lady had never lost faith in him.

Feia was still very busy pressing her sweet mouth to his face and his neck until he captured those roaming lips for a soft slow kiss. Legolas only ended the kiss because he needed to look at her. When he did, he saw again how pale her cheeks were, how exhausted her eyes looked, and he remembered the words of the hobbit in the stable.

"Did you send for me because you are unwell, my lady? Ned Cotton claims that you nearly died!" Legolas squeezed his eyes shut at the thought. Grasping her upper arms in a firm grip he insisted, "Tell me you will be alright, Orenya!"

"I will be well, Legolas! Ned exaggerates! It is nothing time cannot heal; and I assume Meg will be along. She will speed my recovery. Now come! It is time for me to return to Bag End. I do not want Rosie to have to send Elanor after me."

Legolas stood and helped his lady to rise. She leaned on his strength alarmingly, but she would be well! She had never lied to him. Stooping, he gathered her blanket and her book, and then with a supporting arm around his wife, he guided her slow steps to the door of Bag End.

XXX

When they reached the round green door of the hole where so many adventures had begun and ended, Feia opened it without knocking.

From the direction of the kitchen, Rosie's voice floated to them, "Is that you, Feia? I was just going to send Elanor to fetch you. Estellyë is beginning to wake and you know what…"

The pretty hobbit flounced into the entry drying her hands on a small towel as she finished the thought. "…that means." Then her hands, still holding the towel flew to her mouth and she exclaimed, "Bless me! At last!"

Legolas was wondering when Rosie had learned elvish, for she had said, "'Your faith' is beginning to wake." Did she mean his lady's faith?

Rosie turned then, and shouted back toward the kitchen, "Elanor! Help me gather your brothers and sister, we are going out." Then, smiling happily, she left them.

Feia was smiling also. She smiled in warmth and amusement at Rosie's retreating back, and then she smiled at Legolas almost shyly. Taking his hand, she led him through the tunneled hallways of Bag End until she came to a diminutive door through which even she had to duck. Inside was a small bedroom.

His lady released his hand and moved to the other side of the room where two mismatched but sturdy cribs waited. There were soft sweet sounds coming from one of them and Feia reached in speaking soothingly.

"Hello, my darling girl. Have you not yet managed to wake your brother? I know you have been trying. Tulsí, lisse nin," _Come here my sweet, _and she lifted a tiny babe in her arms and carried her to a dressing table.

Feia was still speaking, switching easily between Westron and Elvish, while she changed the little one's wet diaper, "This is a very special day Estellyë. E Ada leië ná túlmar sí na met," _Your father has come home to us. _

But Legolas only heard her with a part of his mind, for there was a rushing sound in his ears. His vision had tunneled so that all he could see were his lady's deft hands and the child – the perfect little child with her tiny elvish ears.

Feia was so nervous that she could barely disguise her trembling. All she could do was keep talking to her baby and go about the business of mothering her. When she had completed her task however, and Legolas had still said nothing, she ventured to look at him.

Legolas was frozen in the act of ducking through the hobbit-sized doorway, bent over in what must be an uncomfortable posture while his mouth worked soundlessly. His eyes were riveted on Estellyë as though he had never seen a baby before and he wondered what manner of creature it was.

"My lord?" Feia asked tentatively.

"Esserya ná Estellyë," Legolas managed. _Her name is Your Faith._

Feia blushed, looking down, "I could not bear to leave them nameless, my lord. I hope you do not mind too much that you had no hand in the naming of them."

Legolas realized several things at once. First was the awareness that he was crouched awkwardly in the doorway. Stepping into the room, he straightened so that his head brushed the ceiling. Second was the realization that Feia was feeling unsure of his reaction to this child. His child! That was the third realization; he was a father. His lady had given him a daughter.

"My daughter," he said unnecessarily.

"Yes, my lord," Feia was frowning slightly, trying to read his expression. She picked up the baby again. "Do you want to hold her, Legolas?"

He reached out uncertainly and Feia said, "Do not forget to support her neck."

"Her neck?"

"Yes, she is too small to support the weight of her head with any reliability."

Legolas just looked at her blankly and Feia smiled at him, "See, like this." She showed him the way that she was holding Estellyë and then she placed the babe in his arms, arranging his hand for him beneath the child's head and neck. "Elves need to have more babies," she murmured.

He stared at the tiny bundle in his arms for some time while the shock slowly began to dissipate, then he looked up and met his wife's eyes, "My lady…" he began in an awed voice, but was interrupted by a demanding little cry from the other crib. At the sound he turned and stared, though still carefully cradling his daughter.

Rolling her eyes, Feia said with a smile, "Yes, ernil nin, _my prince_ I hear you." The child continued to wail pitifully until she picked him up, and even then he continued to cry plaintively. "Yes, I know, your mother mistreats you dreadfully. Could it be nearly three whole hours has passed since your belly was last filled?"

Twins. Legolas's head was reeling. She had been talking about two all along, but he had not been able to concentrate on her words in the state that his mind was in. A girl and a boy…his children – his lady had borne him twins.

Again, Feia kept up a running commentary while she changed their son, "You are not the only prince in the house, little one. Hen ná e aur ya tir'lme an." _This is the day for which we have waited._

Lifting the baby, she turned, displaying him. "Laerien," she said; her cheeks touched with blush, "Leië sén, iënin tûr." _Your son, my lord._

"Land of Summer," Legolas said, nodding. And then it happened. Through the fog of his astonished confusion a ray of light shown directly into his heart, melting away the last of his reluctance to embrace this life and filling him with a joy so deep and so profound that he was nearly overcome. Legolas knew from whence that light originated. "Together, you three are all the Summerland I will ever need, Orenya."

The smile with which his lady responded was like the sun on a bright day. If he stared too long at it, he was sure he would be blinded to all else.

Laerien's crying had abated, but now he let out a wail that was not to be ignored. Feia laughed, "I have to nurse him, Legolas." While she settled herself on the bed with the child she said, "Estellyë has already learned that if she is fed first, she is subjected to her brother's constant complaints and receives an upset stomach for her trouble. If she is patient, however, and lets the greedy one go before her, she is able then to take her time and eat in peace. I honestly think she may be brilliant, my lord."

"Nás sí na hen," _Clearly,_ Legolas agreed. He had seated himself in a straight-backed chair by a small round window. Estellyë was kicking her legs and waving her arms, and otherwise making sure that her father could not fail to recognize how lovely she was. He was utterly entranced. When the tiny lips bowed into what could only be a smile, he said, "My lady, she is smiling at me!" and he glanced up at his wife where she lounged upon the bed.

Legolas had lived for a very long time and he had seen many things that he had named beautiful, but until this moment, the elf decided, he had known nothing of the nature of beauty. His lady was propped upon the pillows, resting on one hip with her knees drawn up toward him. She had unlaced her vest and pulled aside her blouse baring one pale breast. His son nursed there, held in the curve of her body and her arms. Upon his lady's face was an expression of blissful contentment as she bent to nuzzle the top of her baby's head, inhaling deeply.

Sensing his gaze, Feia looked up at him and that glowing delight transferred itself to Legolas with her soft smile, including him in the intimacy of the moment. "I love the way they smell," she said by way of explanation. "I do not know why it is, but I cannot get enough of it."

Legolas stood. Carrying his daughter to where her mother waited, he lay the baby down upon the covers. Then he walked around the bed and wordlessly lowered himself to lie behind his wife, fitting his body around hers and encircling them all with his arms. _I should have been here with you, _he said into her mind.

"You could not be, or you would have been," Feia said aloud. Then she sent silently, _Nályë sí sí, Edhel nin._ (You are here now, my elf.)

And while Feia nursed their children, Legolas buried his face in her hair and quietly wept.

Chapter 42:

**The New Party Tree **

Hugo Boffin had not seen anything of particular interest happen in the Shire since the last of the meddling big folk had been chased out after the Battle of Bywater, and so he had gotten a fair amount of wear out of the tale of Prince Legolas's arrival on his latest visit to the Shire.

After a few tellings, the story had grown in length such that, if everything that Hugo reported had actually been said between them, it would have taken the elf two hours to cross the Brandywine Bridge.

But it was a harmless tale and nobody really believed it, anyway. That was all right with Hugo, since he didn't rightly expect them to. But when word came from Young Tom Cotton, who had it from his brother Ned, that Prince Legolas was now staying at Bag End up in Hobbiton, and that the Lady who had been living there was his wife, Hugo was suddenly treated almost as a hero. Had it not been Hugo Boffin that told the elven prince where his lady waited?

If Hugo said a thing here or there that made it seem as though he had known it all along, but had been keeping it as a confidence between himself and the elven prince, well, what was one more little fabrication in the telling of a good tale?

And so Hugo had gained a modicum of fame from his stint as border guard. No one thought it odd then, when he volunteered to "sacrifice more of his valuable time in order to fulfill his civic duty," taking more shifts at the little guard shack on the Brandywine. He was beginning to regret it, however, when nothing more interesting than a group of dwarven merchants who were just passing through made the crossing in two full weeks. Dwarven merchants were always passing through – that was what dwarven merchants did.

He had even missed the opportunity to tell Merry Brandybuck and Pippin Took the news upon their return. The pair had made the crossing at Buckleberry Ferry only a day or two after Prince Legolas arrived, or so Hugo had heard. And now they were all off in Hobbiton having a visit while Hugo Boffin had nothing better to do than smoke his way through a cask of Ole Toby. But then, there were worse ways to spend your day.

He was just considering what his wife might have packed in that basket she had sent along with him that would be good for a second breakfast, when his sharp hobbitish ears picked up the sound of approaching horses.

There were two horses, bearing elves – and one of them a lady! Behind the other rode a dwarf. Hugo could not recall ever having seen a dwarf on a horse before.

The group crossed the bridge, and giving their names and business, they rode off toward Hobbiton leaving the hobbit quite frustrated by the need to share news and nobody there to share it with. Hugo Boffin was already rehearsing this new story before the party was well out of sight.

XXX

Arriving in Hobbiton late in the morning of the second day after crossing the Baranduin, the companions gave over charge of the horses to Ned Cotton at the Green Dragon. Then Meg, Haldir and Gimli went directly to Bag End, anxious to see their friends.

They found Legolas seated on a hobbit-sized bench in the little dooryard, his long legs stretched far out in front of him. Merry and Sam sat together on the stoop beside him. The three talked together in low voices, for Legolas cradled his sleeping son on his shoulder.

As they approached, Legolas beamed at them, "Mae govannen, friends," he said and nodding toward the drowsing babe he announced, "My son!" There was no disguising his delight in sharing this happy news, nor could he disguise that he had at last found respite from the hurts of his heart.

"Your son!" Gimli repeated in astonishment coming closer to peer at the child. "What an amazing thing. What a splendid, amazing thing!" The dwarf's gruff voice woke Laerien, who blinked up in wonder at the profusion of whiskers confronting him. Reaching out a little hand, the baby took a fistful of the wiry red hair and gave it a tug.

"Úen fang, Laerien," _Not the beard,_ Legolas said with a smile. "Never the beard!"

"That's alright Laerien, my little lad," Gimli said with a laugh reaching out for the child. Legolas handed him over without concern, but somewhat reluctantly, for he could never get enough of his children.

"It's only natural you'd be fascinated by a beard as fine as this one," Gimli continued, expertly handling the babe. "An elven laddie such as yourself can never hope to achieve such a magnificent display of facial hair."

"Laerien is half-elven, Gimli," Merry reminded the dwarf. "He could grow to be a bearded elf."

Tilting his head, Legolas squinted at his son as though trying to picture this, and Meg laughed. "Unlikely, Master Brandybuck," she said. "Elven traits tend to dominate. My maternal grandfather was a man with a prodigious beard that even Lord Gimli would admire, but my brother has never needed to so much as touch a razor in order to keep his cheeks smooth."

Then, unable to restrain herself a moment longer, Meg placed a hand on the little one's head. Her hand glowed blue as she delved the child with her healing touch. When she allowed the hand to drop, Legolas looked the question at her. "He is perfect, my lord," she said.

Legolas smiled.

It was an uncomplicated, blissful smile that did more to lighten Meg's heart than anything had in a long, long while. If either Feia or his little girl were not also well, Legolas could not smile, thus. "Now, where are my sister and your daughter, Prince Legolas?"

"Daughter?!" Gimli repeated, absently untangling baby fingers from his whiskers.

"The lady has not been idle in the months since last we saw her, I deem," Haldir said with a laugh. "This is a joyous reunion, my friends!"

"My lady is within with Estellyë, Lady Meghailin," Legolas said.

Then Sam, who had been hopping from foot to foot awaiting his opportunity to play host, introduced himself to Meg with a respectful bow and ushered everyone inside.

Pippin, seated on the floor playing a game with Frodo-lad, Rosie-lass, and Merry-lad, frowned comically at the new arrivals. "Well that's nice!" he said regretfully. "I've gone and missed the surprise!"

In moments, between them, Sam and Rosie had covered the table with a bounty of food though it was not the time for any specific meal.

Then Feia came out from the bedroom where she had been nursing her daughter and gave a happy cry. She immediately passed the tiny girl to Meg, hugging her sister with the baby between them. After a moment the elven healer pronounced, "Also perfect! They are both perfect, sister! But do not think I shall be giving her back to you right away!" With that, Meg took her armful of baby and found a seat where she could monopolize Estellyë comfortably.

Left with their arms childless, a rarity, Legolas and Feia came together almost unconsciously. The lady looped her arm around her husband's waist and tucked herself under his arm. The elf pressed his lips to her hair, content.

"How did you know, my lady?" Sam asked Meg. "That there were two, I mean; how did you know?"

"My sister is Alderaani, Mister Gamgee, there are always two," she responded. "Also, an intuitive healer can sense the babes long before the mother is showing; sometimes even before the mother knows she is expecting."

"Are you saying that you knew my lady was with child before we left Rivendell, Lady Meghailin?" Legolas asked.

Feia had gone still beneath his arm. Meg glanced at her briefly. "Yes, I knew," she responded carefully.

"Why then did you not tell her?"

"Meg did not need to tell me, my lord," Feia said gently, "Your mother already had."

"My mother?" Legolas said vaguely, his eyebrows coming together over his nose. "You knew at Dol Guldur and you did not tell me, my lady? Even at Rivendell when you could have stopped me from sending you away – stopped me from leaving with a word! Would you have kept my children from me?" He had dropped his arm and stepped away from her, his expression clouded and deeply hurt.

"You know better than that," Feia said quietly. But she was not truly surprised when Legolas shook his head in confusion and strode out of the house. He was healing, but his wounds were still raw. Feia sighed.

"Don't you fret about it, lassie!" Gimli said gruffly. "He'll figure it out in a bit and all will be well again."

Meg silently passed Estellyë to Sam and stood. "Come, Feia, I have checked the babes, it is time I looked after their mother." With that she led her sister unresisting toward her bedroom.

But as they left the companions, Meg turned and sent a meaningful glance toward her husband, so that when the bedroom door had closed softly behind the ladies, Haldir was already outside and following after his brother elf.

XXX

Haldir did not have to guess where Legolas would go. His friend was an elf. He had gone to the tree.

Legolas was squatting on a low branch up in the Mallorn with the late morning light filtering through the leaves and painting him in a camouflage of light and shadow. As still as he was, only another elf could have seen him there.

"She has gifted you with her faith again and again, Legolas," Haldir said without preamble, "Yasse ná e estel leië marren?" _Where is your faith? _

"She could have stopped me from going off to Mirkwood. She could have stopped me from endangering our friends. Why would she not tell me?"

"Would it have stopped you? Her love alone did not."

Reaching into the front of his tunic, the Lórien elf retrieved a folded parchment. "We chanced upon a ranger on the road. He recognized our party and approached seeking word of you. He had this from a pair of hobbits. I assured him I would deliver it." Haldir handed the parchment up to his friend and then left him alone.

When Haldir had gone, Legolas unsealed and unfolded the parchment curiously. It was written in elvish script. He had not known that knowledge of the writing of his language had also passed to his lady. But the runic symbols had been written in a shaking hand.

His lady's hand was not known to him, but he imagined that it was as deft and as graceful as every other thing that she did. She must have been in a bad way to handle a pen so poorly.

_Legolas, my Concinnate, my elf,_ it began.

_I pray this has reached you swiftly and that you are well. I pray that you are well every day, though I trust that I would know it had my faith proved false and you had succeeded in your terrible quest. Surely my heart could not continue to beat in a world where you were not. _

_There is that which I have kept from you, my husband. I do not know if you will forgive me when you learn of it, but I know you will not fail to come to me here. Your heart, if it has begun to heal at last, will have room in it for the children you have given me. I am delivered of your children, my elf; a girl and a boy you have given me, and they and you together are my whole heart. _

_Your daughter I have called Your Faith, for she is my reward for faith. Had I faltered in it, I think she might never have been conceived. Your son I have called Land of Summer, for he is my hope for the future. _

_I could wish that I had sent for you sooner, my lord. I could wish for many things, but my chief wish has been that you would ask for me; that you would come for me, my elf, and I would know then that you had chosen life. But now I have watched our children for these three days and I can see the changes in them already. They will be small for so short a time, and you are missing it! For every day that you are deprived of one another, I die a little in my heart. _

_Come to us in the Shire, Legolas. Come quickly. If our need of you could draw you here, you would not have to run or ride, for you would be here now. But we have not this magic; there are no more Gates to bring us together from afar. _

_Your dear Sam and his Rosie have opened their home to us and have cared for us with all the love that you could wish, but it is not enough to fill the empty place that is yours alone to fill. _

_Be swift, my elf! _

_I am yours forever, _

_Feia _

XXX

The bedroom door slammed when Meg left her. Hard.

Feia calmly followed her, opening and closing the door with deliberate care. She understood her friend's frustration. Had their places been exchanged, Feia would be equally upset. The delivery of her babes had been hard; her sister's care would have been …helpful.

Still, she did not regret that Meg had been with Legolas and his companions far away from Feia when her time came. If the healer had not been precisely where she was, Gimli would likely be dead.

It felt good to be totally well again. She was still tired, but that would pass. Meg had wanted her to sleep, but there were far more important matters for her to attend to, first.

Returning to where her friends waited, she found that Meg was listening intently to Rosie. She must have demanded the story of Feia's labor from the hobbit, for Feia had refused to tell her any more than what the condition of her body reported to the healer.

Gathering a sleepy child in each arm: her daughter from Gimli and her son from Pippin, Feia returned to the bedroom to put them down for a nap. Estellyë was fussy, and so she held her for a while, singing softly.

When at last they both slept, Feia carefully combed her hair, pausing to finger one of the beads that signified her marriage thoughtfully. Then she straightened her clothing, took a deep breath and walked out of the room.

Meg was gone, and Rosie was bouncing her youngest child, Little Pippin on her hip, while participating in the bantering conversation of her guests. When Feia emerged, however, Rosie approached her and said quietly, "Your sister is rightly concerned about what you went through, Feia. It was a near thing!"

"You took good care of me, Rosie. Am I not well? Are the babies not healthy?"

"It was a near thing," Rosie repeated shaking her head. "The labor was long and you were already near exhaustion when the trouble happened. If you had not been having a fever-dream, I do not think you would have found the strength to deliver them."

"What do you mean, 'fever-dream'?"

"Why, you were staring, Feia! And you reached out your hand as though someone were standing right there beside you. Then you said Legolas's name as though he could truly hear you. After that, you discovered strength enough to do what you had to do."

"I do not remember," Feia said softly. "I am going to find my husband, Rosie. I must find him. The little ones are sleeping, would you listen against their need?"

"Of course I will. Don't you worry about them," Rosie assured her.

XXX

When Meg finished her interrogation of Rosie, she felt no calmer. It took an effort not to slam the front door of Bag End when she went out to get some air and walk off her frustration.

And when she walked into Legolas, who was returning from his most recent bout of stubbornness, the elven lady was granted a target for her ire, and her aim was true.

"You!" she cried, "I was not here with her because of you and she could have died!"

Legolas could only stare at her numbly, his eyes asking what his voice could not.

"Laerien was turned the wrong way!" Meg all but spat. "Feia was already weary from her long labor when Rosie had to turn your son. Do you have any idea how difficult that is? How painful?" Meg did not wait for a response but plowed on, "If her strength had failed, she would be dead!"

From the door of Bag End, Feia had seen the expression on Meg's face when she confronted Legolas – and so she ran, reaching them in time for that last pronouncement; in time for her husband's face to go pale and still the way it could when his pain was the deepest.

"I am not dead," she said firmly. "The babes and I are well. I wanted you both with me, but Rosie is an excellent midwife and we did what we had to do. All of us did."

Feia turned to her sister, "Meghailin, it is not like you to be cruel. There was no reason for this!"

Meg gave a start, first looking determined to argue, but then suddenly she seemed to deflate. "You are right, Feia. It was a shock learning that I might have lost you, but I should not have vented my anger upon Prince Legolas. I apologize, my lord," she said to Legolas. "It is not your fault that my sister had a difficult labor." Meg bowed briefly to Legolas who stood still mute, his jaw clenched. Then the elven healer, subdued now, returned to Bag End.

Feia took Legolas's hand and wordlessly led him the other way; back toward the New Party Tree.

XXX

When they had reached the sheltering boughs of the Mallorn, Feia said, "Meg has healed the last of my hurts. Have you healed yours, my lord?"

Legolas circled her with his arms. "Nay lady, you have," he breathed into her hair. "I understand now, Feia. Had you told me of our children and I had remained for them when I would not remain for you alone, how then could you trust in my love? And had I gone away, how could you not believe I had rejected them? You could not tell me. I know it…

But lady! I was not at your side during the delivery of them. My absence kept your sister from you when you most needed her. You seem able to forgive me, but how am I to forgive myself? How can I…"

"Daro! Henná e metta!" _Stop! Enough!_ Feia interrupted him, laying her fingers over his lips. "Enough of guilt! Enough of grief! Enough! Can this day not be a new beginning for us?"

"I would welcome a new beginning for us lady, for I would that I could start from the beginning and give you all the faith that you have given to me," Legolas pulled her back into his arms. "I have amends to make!"

"I will give you a thousand years to make them, then," Feia said nuzzling the skin of his neck. "And after that I will give you a thousand more. Beyond that we shall have to see!"

Legolas laughed; a pure, clean sound unsullied by the baggage of grief.

Feia backed away, smiling into his eyes, until she had reached a particularly sheltered spot between the tree's roots, then she lowered herself to sit and raised her hand, beckoning. "In my dreams it was always here," she said.

Legolas knelt down before her, reaching out a hand to brush back her hair over the rounded shell of her ear. "What was here, my lady?"

Feia leaned into his hand so that her cheek was cupped in his palm, and then she sent_, in my dreams, you came to me here and claimed me again as your lady._

_You have always been my lady, have you not?_ Legolas asked in her mind even as he bent closer so that their breath mingled. _Even though I sent you from me, you remained true in your heart._ Aloud he whispered, "You humble me, Orenya." And then he kissed her.

Chapter 43:

**Shire Reckoning **

Accommodations were found for the Gamgee's many guests. There were only two rooms at the Green Dragon, which were seldom let, but the innkeeper had good custom for the four months that the companions remained in Hobbiton. Gimli had claimed one of the rooms and the other was shared by Merry and Pippin. The two hobbits had been staying at number 3 New Row, vacant since the Gaffer's death last spring, up until the rest of the companions had arrived. After that, they had graciously ceded the little hole to Haldir and Meg.

Legolas and Feia and their children remained at Bag End in the little room that had been Feia's for so many months. The room was small, but it suited Feia and Legolas to remain close to one another and to their babes.

It was a happy time. The companions enjoyed the hominess of the sounds of children, the smells of wholesome cooking, and the unhurried pace of Shire life after their months of living out.

As the weeks passed, Legolas and Feia's babes grew. Soon they were sleeping through the night and even eating their first foods. Estellyë grew a cap of downy blond while Laerien's hair came in dark like his mother's.

The Green Dragon was full of curious local hobbits and as many hobbits from abroad in the Shire as could think of a plausible reason to be there all during that time. Patrons were rewarded by the sight of the Shire's unusual temporary residents and occasionally by tales and strange sounding music from distant lands. Sometimes one or both of the ladies would make an appearance, and they would tell stories and sing songs that were strange indeed! Those who were present on those occasions were the envy of their friends, for the ladies were a novelty in the Shire like no other.

Rosie was kept busy with company most all the time, for if the ladies were a coveted sight, a glimpse of the half-elven little ones up at Bag End was a feather in the cap of any hobbit creative enough to come up with an excuse to drop by. Hobbits could be very creative when motivated.

But as summer drew to a close, the companions prepared to depart the Shire and travel to Gondor. Feia made some sketches and enlisted the aid of a woodworker and a leathercrafter who produced two comfortable and lightweight baby carriers that could be worn by their parents even when on horseback, thus solving the problem of how to travel with the children, for Feia did not like the notion of riding in a cart.

When all was in readiness, they took their leave of Rosie, who was herself well along with her sixth child. Feia knelt and embraced her friend warmly, tears in her eyes, and Legolas gravely thanked the lady of Bag End once again for her care of his family. Sam would ride with them as far as the Brandywine Bridge bringing Elenor and Frodo-lad along. Elenor rode on the famous pony, Bill, before her father, while Little Frodo rode clinging to Pippin's belt.

It was a strange sight, at first, to see Estellyë in place of Legolas's quiver and bow, (which were close at hand, strapped atop his other gear). The companions had all grown accustomed to seeing the elf behaving domestically with his children at Bag End, but it was another matter to see him dressed for travel upon the back of a battle steed bearing his daughter upon his back.

It even felt strangely incongruous to Feia, who had become used to Hobbitish apparel, to be in her travel gear again with Laerien's carrier buckled across her shoulders. But after a full, though leisurely day of travel, with many stops to care for and swap the babies, they all became comfortable with the notion that travel would not be the same as it once had been for some time to come.

XXX

It took several days to reach the crossing of the Baranduin at Stonebows where Hugo Boffin was once more doing his civic duty. Here, as they approached the Brandywine Bridge, Legolas quite suddenly reined in Arod.

"We may not yet leave the Shire," he said.

Haldir with Gimli behind him, rode Hithui close. "Why, Legolas?" he asked.

The elven prince glanced at his friends, frowning in puzzlement. "I do not know. I only sense that we must wait."

"Then we will wait," Feia said, trustingly.

Hugo Boffin was surprised and pleased when the diverse group of travelers made a camp within sight of the bridge. He was overjoyed when they invited him to join their fire that evening. There were stories and singing until the little ones dropped off and then there was quiet talk of many things late into the night.

The companions stayed in their camp all through the next day and night, also. Although he could not say the reason, Legolas was sure that they must wait. The next afternoon they learned why.

Lunch had been eaten and cleared away. The babies were sleeping and Feia busied herself braiding Elanor's hair. Merry, Pippin and Gimli were tossing a ball with Frodo-lad while Sam stood behind his son, coaching. Meg and Haldir had gone a little apart and were talking softly together. But Legolas was drawn to the foot of the bridge where he stood watch with Hugo Boffin sitting on his stool beside the little shack and observing him curiously.

After awhile, Haldir and Meg raised their heads and looked to the bridge expectantly. A few moments later, everyone could hear the jingle of tiny bells and the sound of many horses and a carriage approaching on the road.

Soon, through the trees a party appeared. The elven brothers Elladan and Elrohir led them – the latter raised a hand in greeting. Behind them rode Lord Elrond, their father. Following the elven patriarch was the high elf Lord Glorfindel and with him the king of the Woodland Realm. Thranduil rode close to Glorfindel with the hood of his robe pulled up and far forward shading his features, but there was no mistaking him.

Behind the elves was an open carriage in which rode the Queen of Gondor with a babe in her arms and the Queen of Eryn Lasgalen to keep her company. Beside the carriage on one side, Elessar guarded the two who he loved best and their royal companion from great Roheryn's broad back. On the other side paced a mighty steed of Rohan with King Eomer proud in its saddle. At the rear of the party smiling roguishly, rode Rúmil of Lórien.

"Hail, Legolas of Mirkwood!" Elladan called as the party clattered across the wooden bridge.

"Hail, Elladan of Rivendell! The Shire has seldom seen so auspicious a gathering of elves and men!" Legolas responded.

"It appears you are prepared to travel!" Elrohir said. "That is well, for we have an appointment to keep at the Havens."

His brows coming together in a slight frown, Legolas stepped back, allowing the newcomers to cross over onto the river's bank.

Legolas glanced at his father, but the woodland king was not able to meet his son's eyes, placing the bulk of the arriving party between himself and his estranged son. Nenuiel had leapt gracefully down from the carriage and was reaching up to receive the little prince of Gondor so that Arwen could also disembark; and so his mother also did not see Legolas's questioning frown.

Finally he said to Elladan "Ya náim an namárië?" _Who must I farewell?_ "Imuva nainië e cirith annûn o ilye sí." _I am unprepared for the passage west of any here. _

"Glad am I to hear you ask it, Legolas," Elladan responded, "for I wondered if it might not be you who would embark thence despite that you had healed much."

"E cairdan ná edan o úhen sí ya náui an remmen nin mí annanren an e aear." _The shipwright builds no craft that can lure me away from the life I have now._

Elrohir came to stand beside his brother and grinning said, "Well indeed, Legolas! I see your lady yonder." There was little inflection in the elf's voice, but having said the words he conveyed much in the way of relief and joy for his friend's recovery.

Elladan added, "She greets our sister as one who loves her well." His expression was smooth - and his words also, but in subtle ways it was clear he was surprised.

Legolas watched as Queen Arwen pulled smiling from the embrace she had shared with Feia, and then still smiling retrieved her son from Queen Nenuiel and passed him to her new friend.

But even as she accepted the beautiful child, Eldarion into her arms, Feia's eyes went to those of her mother-in-law and she nodded toward the shaded place a few paces away where Laerien and Estellyë rested under Elanor's watchful guardianship. Legolas's lips curved in a small smile as his mother drifted in that direction without a backward glance.

Returning his gaze to his wife he saw her exchange a knowing and feminine smile with Arwen, then both ladies turned their attention to the sweet babe in Feia's arms, heads close together as they slowly followed after the Mirkwood Queen.

"They openly embrace that which they both sense will be between them," he said in answer to Elrohir's curiosity, and the other elf nodded in understanding.

When Haldir and Meg approached the newcomers, Meg curtsied in a general welcome and hurried to greet the two queens who now sat upon the grass with Feia and the babies and little Elanor.

Greetings were exchanged amongst those that remained, and Legolas was not unaware of the surprising lack of fuss and formality in them. He did not have to hear his friends say it to realize that the casualness was for his benefit...his and his father's.

Thranduil hovered at the edge of the group without participating beyond what was necessary. His wide hood shadowed his face, but he stood tall and looked at ease. He did not return Legolas's gaze, though he did not appear to be avoiding it either. A feeling came over Legolas strongly then, a desire to walk into his father's arms and feel again the love that once was there in even their smallest interactions. But on the heels of that desire came the memory of betrayal and murder and grief. A tiny shudder passed through his body as part of him yearned toward Thranduil and another cringed away.

It was Merry, ever observant, who noticed his distress. The hobbit said brightly, "it seems we shan't have to travel to Gondor in order to meet the young prince!" Focus shifted to the children and the ladies at once. "But we will be forced to pry him away from the ladies!" Merry continued.

"How does it happen that no matter what, ladies will congregate if there are little ones to admire," mused Rumil.

"The same way it happens that lords congregate if there is war to plan," King Eomer responded.

"And do we speak of strategy?" asked Gimli. "For I note we are here gathered with ne'er a lady present."

"Did we speak of such things, my wife at least would be here amongst us, babes or no," Legolas said with a small sigh.

Elessar laughed softly, "Indeed, there would be no separation of this group at all if there were such dire tidings to consider. Let the ladies have their time with the little ones. I will dare to speak for my gender! It is a dance of sorts to approach ones children. Eldarion is so small! I oft fear I shall break him. But in a little while I think, there will not be a man, elf, hobbit or dwarf among us who has not cradled, cooed and coddled all three infants yonder." The king paused and smiled warmly at Legolas, his eyes saying all that his words did not of his relief at seeing his friend so well at last, and so happy. Well did he know the bliss of fatherhood, particularly considering the rarity of elven children.

"It has been long since I have held an elven child, but I have not forgotten how to do so without breaking them," Glorfindel put in, his face grim with a hint of affront.

But the king had been much in the high elf's presence and knew when he was being treated to his particular brand of humor. Bowing in mock humility, Elessar smiled and responded, "I stand corrected. Elven memories are long."

"Not so long that I do not find myself surprised to see the last such child I have held, holding a child of her own," Elrond spoke with a hint of wonder.

"The very idea of Elanor with her own littles fairly sets my head to spinnin'!" moaned Sam.

"You have some time, Master Samwise," The elven lord smiled down at the hobbit. "Enjoy it! I have heard you and your fine wife have a house full of children. Four is it?"

"Oh, I do...I shall! And it's five, with a sixth coming!" beamed Sam.

"The fellowship grows rapidly of late!" Elessar commented.

"I guess I'll have to hurry along my plans, if I intend to keep up!" Pippin said with a secretive grin.

"Plans?" Merry frowned at his friend. "What plans?"

"Do you propose to wed, Master Holbytla?" Eomer asked, and Pippin only shrugged eloquently.

"Rapscallion!" Gimli exclaimed. "And when were you going to mention that!? We have been here for four months! Who is your lass?"

"Diamond!" Merry shrewdly guessed, and Pippin's face immediately went scarlet confirming it.

Merry's voice became almost accusatory. "You will marry your long-cousin, Diamond Took! She and her mother have been set on it since she was a little lass, but I never believed you'd be caught!"

Pippin remained silent with his cheeks flaming, but Legolas said, "Being caught is no bad thing, Merry." His eyes drifted toward Feia who discreetly nursed Estellyë in the dappled shade and his lips curved into a gentle smile. "It is no bad thing."

Chapter 44:

**Beyond the White Towers **

Together, the gathering of folk shared a pleasant afternoon and camped that night beside the river Baranduin. Amongst high elven lords and kings and queens, Hugo Boffin sat silent and amazed. No embellishment would be needed for this tale, and yet it would surely not be believed. The simple hobbit could not quite find it in himself to feel concern for what the morrow would bring, however, when Glorfindel and Arwen together filled the night with their fair singing, and King Elessar wove an ancient tale of a people long gone from Middle Earth, and Elrond then called upon Sam to recite a bit of poetry. Hugo could not even stir himself to light the pipe clamped tight between his teeth when King Eomer of the Mark chanted a tale in Rohirric that stirred the blood and called to some hitherto unremembered urge in him to stand and fight for that which he loved. And when the Lady Meghailin strummed her gitar and sang sweetly of a home lost and a home found, he drifted off to sleep.

When he awoke, he was alone beside a dying fire, tucked in a blanket edged in tiny silver bells. It may be, if you meet Hugo Boffin one day, he will carefully unwrap this treasure and display it proudly for you to admire, for the work of elves on Middle Earth has not faded as was foretold, but grown strong again and the weaving holds its color and strength and the tiny bells chime clear and true. All in the Shire now know that sound as an echo of elven children singing for it is not any longer an uncommon sound.

XXX

As the company traveled at a sedate and steady pace toward the Gray Havens and passed beyond the white towers, Legolas was silent and Thranduil was also. Nenuiel split her time near equally between them, but did not coax them as Feia thought she might toward reconciliation. Instead she spoke of the children and of news from Eryn Lasgelan where Galion and the Mirkwood elves made swift work returning their home to a state of grace.

Thranduil only had eyes for his grandchildren, though he watched them discreetly and did not come near to them.

Frodo-lad had taken so strongly to elf-watching, having lost any fear of them in his four months living with three, that he began almost to show an elvishness himself - very like his namesake. Sam was not the only one to notice, for Pippin sighed and said, "I almost feel as we travel this road again that we should find Frodo at the end of it!"

And Elrond said, "Where this road ends is many surprising things, I deem, but I do not think the ringbearer is one of them. Frodo has much healing to do and has had little time in which to do it."

"Still and all," Sam said quietly, "he is there as much as anywhere."

"Indeed," Elessar responded, acknowledging the wisdom of his friend's words.

XXX

On a fair morning two days later, (for the weather had held fair and perfect for travel as though enchanted) Feia sat beside her husband with Laerien upon her knees. The camp was a quiet bustle of activity as the companions unhurriedly, but efficiently gathered their things to begin the day's journey. Only she and Legolas caring for their babes, and Thranduil sitting dourly across the camp were not moving about.

Feia could sense from across the breakfast fire the familiar gaze of her father-in-law as he silently watched his grandson with a nearly unblinking stare. But the elven king did blink when Feia did what she was most famous for amongst those who knew and loved her best. He blinked several times in confusion as his daughter-in-law followed her heart. Rising without a word, Legolas peering after her curiously, she circled the fire and deposited her son gently into Thranduil's lap. She turned then and left them there without a backward glance, her husband holding their daughter and Thranduil cradling his grandson.

After a moment of stunned inactivity, Thranduil rose gracefully. He cradled Laerien as though, as Elessar had claimed, he feared he would break him. And that care for his son in this unguarded moment melted Legolas's heart just far enough. He rose also and father and son came together at the camp's center. No words passed between them, but they allowed the little ones to do the communicating for them.

It was a beginning.

XXX

The ship came with the dawn, sailing into the morning light that filtered into the gray havens through the mist. The prow was shining white, the sails as drifting clouds and the figures on board were indistinct and confusing, for it seemed that the cloud-like sails were entwined with a living forest which moved as no forest should, over the sea.

The sight of an elven ship headed east into the harbor where the companions waited was strange enough, but even elf eyes could find no meaning in this vision, saving perhaps Lord Elrond, who made no sign that anything unexpected was occurring.

It was Merry who broke the silence of the still and shrouded quay with a jubilant laugh. "Entwives!" he exclaimed! Pippin laughed as well and linking arms the two hobbits swung around in a dance of pure gladness.

When the ship ghosted to the dock, Eomer and Haldir moved to catch the lines and tie it fast, and Elessar received the gangplank as it was extended, lowering it gently. Then Lord Celeborn appeared and offering a hand, guided Galadriel to the shore where the entire company bowed to her and to her lord.

Lady Galadriel reached out a hand to her son-in-law and when Lord Elrond approached her with another bow she directed his attention back to the ship where had appeared an elven lady of great beauty and grace. The reunion of Elrond and Celebrian was tender beyond words. Arwen cried helpless tears moved by her joy for her parents beyond her ability to contain them. With her brothers she shared in the poignancy of the moment feeling not at all slighted that they must patiently wait for their moment to welcome their mother home.

A few other elves also disembarked and then with great dignity came the entwives. There were five of them and they were like and unlike the ents and very much different each from the other.

Galadriel noted Sam straining to see into the boat seeking stragglers while attempting to hide the fact and she said gently, "Dear Samwise, your Frodo is not yet ready to return, but you will stand here again one day and welcome him home!"

And with that, Sam burst into tears.


End file.
